


Blindsided

by LSfarmwmn



Category: Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:39:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14069109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSfarmwmn/pseuds/LSfarmwmn
Summary: After a take down goes bad, Steph's left temporarily blind. Ranger takes it upon himself to care for her. Both are blindsided by how this brings them closer together, until an ultimatum threatens to tear them apart. Can Ranger see past his own fears to find the path that will allow him to walk through life with Steph by his side? Or will he break ties and walk away forever?





	1. The Blind Leading the Blind

**Author's Note:**

> This story is rated Mature for language and smut in later chapters.

# Chapter 1

## The Blind Leading the Blind

**Steph's POV:**

Not to brag, but I had house captures down to a science. Lula manned the back door. I took the front. When I knocked, and my skip made a break out the back, Lula sat on him. It was a good system. Not fool proof, but it worked a good seventy-five percent of the time. I liked those odds.

Of course, Monty Parish had to fall into that other twenty-five percent.

Instead of fleeing out the back, like any logical, sane fugitive from justice, Monty opened the door, blinked at me for a few long seconds, then screamed "Bonzai!" and head rushed me.

I'd like to say I stood my ground, performed a tidy little clothesline maneuver, knocked Monty to the ground, cuffed him, and dragged his ass back to jail. But Monty was nearly two hundred and fifty pounds of anger in motion. And I was, well, considerably less than that, even if I did have an unhealthy relationship with Boston cream donuts.

Barely jumping aside in time to avoid being trampled, I gave chase. Monty made a bee line for his electric blue Honda sport bike sitting at the curb. For a big guy, he sure could haul ass when properly motivated. Jumping on the bike, he jammed the key into the ignition and the engine came to life. Desperate, I threw myself forward, hoping to grab him from behind before he could rev the throttle.

I was about two seconds too late. Instead, I fell into the street, catching myself painfully with my hands as Monty squealed away, a river of loose dirt and pebbles kicked into my face by the rear tire.

Instinct pulled my hands to my eyes, trying desperately to rub away the grit. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I knelt in the street.

"Girl, what happened?"

I jumped as Lula's voice sounded somewhere to my right. Turning my blurry eyes in her direction, all I could make out was a large fuchsia and gold blob.

"I need to wash my face. I got dirt in my eyes." Desperately, I clung to rationality, beating down the rising panic. My eyes burned, and I could barely see.

"Monty got a hose in his back yard."

I stumbled to my feet and promptly tripped over the curb. Lula grabbed my arm to steady me and led me around the back of Monty's house. Metal squeaked as she turned the spigot, then a rubber tube got shoved into my hands. Tilting my head to the side, I doused my face with the frigid water, forcing my eyes open to wash out the gunk.

Finally, I pulled away from the stream of water, my hair, face, and t-shirt soaked.

"Better?" Lula inquired, turning off the water.

I blinked a few times, but the world stayed blurry and my eyes still hurt. Badly. Even hidden behind a thick bank of overcast clouds, the mid-morning sun seemed entirely too bright. "I think I might need to go to the hospital."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should just go home and close your eyes for a while. You never know what else you're gonna pick up at the hospital. You go in to have your eyes checked, and next thing you know, you got a case of measles, or meningitis, or something."

"I think I'll take my chances." Tears coursed from my eyeballs again, and nothing seemed to stem them. Fumbling around in my purse, I came up with a pair of sunglasses and jammed them on my face. The relief was minimal.

"Fine. I'll drop you off." She reached into my back pocket and snagged my key ring. "But don't expect me to hold your hand or nothing. You can call Officer Hottie or Batman for that. I don't need no smallpox or whatever."

Lula led me back to my latest craptastic car. The VIN claimed it began life as a red Ford Focus. How it had become a rusted out, half blue, half green emblemless sedan was a mystery I would likely never solve, but it ran. So that's all that really mattered.

At the ER, Lula walked me inside to the triage desk, my hand clutching the strap of her tank top in an effort not to fall over anything. Someone coughed from the waiting room area and she went rigid.

"Well. Here you go."

The coughing turned to noisy retching. I felt the breeze as Lula bolted.

* * *

A little over an hour later, my eyes had been numbed, examined, cleaned, and were now taped shut and covered with gauze and matching white, disposable eye patches.

"You were very fortunate, Miss Plum. While you have several corneal abrasions, you avoided serious injuries to your vision. You'll need to keep the patches on for the next three days, except to put in antibiotic drops. You will likely experience some blurry vision for a few days after that, due to the depth of the scratches." The harried nurse finally sucked in a breath. "Now, who can we call to come get you?"

I sighed. I had limited options, and none of them ideal. Lula might be convinced to come pick me up with a good deal of bribery, the promise I'd have a nurse wheel me to the parking lot, and the offer to spray me down with Lysol. My mother would retrieve me in a heartbeat. Then spend the next week ironing, drinking, and lecturing me on how I'd failed at life before reminding me that Esther Burnette's daughter never went blind from her job at the bank.

My boyfriend would be a good choice. That is, if I had one. Problem was, Joe Morelli and I had been on the outs for the past month. I honestly couldn't even remember what had started the fight, so I knew Morelli would have already forgiven me. But if he took me home, he'd likely say something about my career choice giving him heartburn, then suggest I marry him and become a housewife. The fight would start all over again. Except with no eyesight, I'd have a hard time storming out this time.

"You can call my friend Ranger," I finally replied, reciting his number for her. Part of me hoped she'd return in a few minutes to say he hadn't answered. I'd get no lecture about my job from Trenton's resident Man of Mystery, but I might get a lot more Cuban libido than I could handle in my current state. And my lack of vision would do nothing to dissuade me, seeing as I could close my eyes and picture the man naked. A vision embedded indelibly in my mind.

Ten minutes later, the air pressure in the room shifted, announcing Ranger's arrival just before I heard the clack of the curtain being drawn back and a softly muttered, "Babe." A second later, my mattress depressed on the left side as Ranger leaned against my bed, warm fingers brushing a few stray pieces of hair off my forehead.

"The nurse refused to tell me what happened. Just that they needed to release you into the care of a responsible adult, and you'd given my name."

I filled the expectant pause that followed with a brief account of my misadventure this morning. "I just need you to take me home," I finished.

"Let me find a nurse and get you a wheelchair."

My mother was probably already getting phone calls. HIPPA didn't apply in the Burg. The additional calls that would follow if I got wheeled out of here made me fear for my Pineapple Upside-down Cake future. "I don't need a wheelchair. My legs work fine."

Even though I couldn't see him, I sensed Ranger's smile. "Suit yourself, Babe." A second later, he scooped me up bridal style.

"I can walk!" I screeched, throwing my arms around his neck, my lack of vision throwing off my equilibrium.

Ranger paused but didn't put me down. "You can't see. You either roll out of here or exit in my arms. Choice is yours."

"Argh, you're impossible!" I punched his chiseled chest with the same effect as punching a brick wall, then rubbed my sore knuckles. "Get a damn wheelchair!" My mother would be drunk before dinner if she got calls about Ranger carrying me out of the hospital.

A small chuckle shook his chest as he gently deposited me back on the hospital bed. "Be right back."

Half an hour later, I was tucked onto my living room sofa, an afghan pulled up to my armpits. "Thanks," I muttered sleepily to Ranger. "Sorry I disrupted your day." Even taped shut, my eyes felt heavy. A nap called my name as I yawned.

"No trouble, Babe. Get some rest."

* * *

**Ranger's POV:**

My cell phone buzzed in the middle of Tank's usual Monday break-down of the services needed by our corporate clients. Glancing down at the screen, I nearly sent the unfamiliar Trenton number to voice mail. But something tickled the hairs on the back of my neck at the last second. A sensation that, I'd learned the hard way, was never good to ignore.

"Manoso. Who is this?"

A high pitched squeak came through the line, before a wavering female voice wheezed, "I'm sorry, I'm trying to reach someone named Ranger."

"Speaking," I barked.

"I'm calling from the emergency department at St. Francis." A heavy knot suddenly filled my gut. "We have a patient, a Miss Plum…"

"What happened? Is she okay?" Across my desk, Tank tensed. No need to tell him who I was asking about, my tone said enough.

"I'm s-sorry, confidentiality rules don't let me discuss—"

I cut her off, rudely. "Then why the hell did you call me?"

The nurse on the other end made some flustered noises for a full second before her grasp of the English language returned to her. "Miss Plum is ready to be released, but she must be signed out to the care of a responsible adult. She asked for you." The woman spit it out in one big rush, sighing once she finished.

"I'll be there in five minutes." I ended the call abruptly. "Steph is in the ER at St. Francis," I told Tank as I stood, grabbing for my car keys.

My fingers wrapped around the fob for the Turbo, but I dropped it back in the desk drawer half a second later. Without knowing what kind of injuries Steph had sustained, the Cayenne would be a better option.

"I'll clear your schedule for the rest of the day and finalize the details with Globe Tech myself."

I nodded my thanks and Tank clapped me on the shoulder as I passed, giving a reassuring squeeze. This wasn't the first time I'd run out on my right-hand-man in the middle of a meeting because of Stephanie Plum. And God willing, it wouldn't be the last.

Jesus, she'd better be alright.

I made no excuses to the men in the control room as I roughly pushed through the door to the emergency stairwell and jogged down to the parking garage, in no mood to wait on the elevator.

Five minutes later, I screeched to a stop under the covered emergency department entrance. Flicking on my hazard lights, I left the Cayenne at the curb, hurried inside, and gave my name at the triage desk. As an orderly led me to Steph's room, I tried to convince myself she couldn't be that seriously hurt, since Rangeman hadn't intercepted any emergency calls. And she'd been able to provide my name and personal number.

It did nothing to dissipate the vice crushing my innards.

"Babe."

It slipped softly from my mouth the moment I saw her, reclined on a curtained-off bed in the middle of a standard trauma bay. Both her hands rested on her lap, not a scratch on her. No stitches, casts, or bandages except on her face. Two large white patches, elastic bands stretched around her head, covered both her eyes. Her disheveled chestnut hair splayed out around her like an auburn halo, several stray curls falling across her face. She immediately turned in my direction, biting down on her bottom lip.

I leaned across her bed, resisting the urge to kiss her, and instead satisfied my need by brushing away her wayward curls. "The nurse refused to tell me what happened. Just that they needed to release you into the care of a responsible adult, and you'd given my name."

Patiently, I listened to her explanation. If it weren't the fact she'd gotten hurt, the mental image might have inspired laughter. Instead, I made a note to have one of my guys pick up Monty Parish. And if he happened to have one or two unfortunate accidents on the way to the police station, so be it. Steph had managed to wiggle her way into the hearts of every man I employed. Retribution would be unspoken.

I scanned Steph again. No way she could walk out of here. She could barely navigate an empty hallway with two working eyes, never mind one full of gurneys and bustling doctors while blind. "Let me find a nurse and get you a wheelchair."

"I don't need a wheelchair. My legs work fine."

She scowled, but it only made her look adorable. The corners of my lips pulled upward. "Suit yourself, Babe." With more enjoyment than the situation warranted, I scooped her up and pressed her to my chest.

Her arms circled my neck as she panicked. "I can walk!"

"You can't see. You either roll out of here or exit in my arms. Choice is yours." God, I wanted her to let me carry her, even though I knew hell would have to freeze over before she took that option.

"Argh, you're impossible!"

Her hand hit my chest in what I think she intended to be a punch, but it felt more like getting struck by a butterfly. A small bird, at most.

"Get a damn wheelchair!"

I shook my head, chuckling in amazement at the resilient woman in my arms. She'd gotten a face full of gravel, scratched both her eyes, couldn't see a thing, and yet she still had the spirit to put up a fight.

Damn. She was handling the injury better than I had. Of course, she had the luxury of going temporarily blind outside of a war zone.

Gently, I settled her back onto her bed. "Be right back."

Retrieving a wheelchair from the entrance, I attempted to help Steph into it. She pushed me away, insisting she could get out of bed and into it herself. Which she did. With me hovering about six inches away, tensed to catch her. A nurse arrived with a bottle of antibiotic eye drops, a bag full of extra gauze and eye patches, and detailed instructions that, except to put in the drops, Steph couldn't remove the eye patches for the next three days.

Steph crossed her arms, huffing, as I was finally given permission to roll her outside. It took effort not to laugh at her stubborn dramatics, now that I knew her injuries weren't serious and would heal without any lasting effects.

I guided her into her dim apartment. She'd flat out refused to let me carry her from the Cayenne, so she clung to my arm instead. She'd been yawning the whole way from St. Francis. I led her to her sofa and got her to lay down. Pulling the afghan off the back, I tucked it around her as she snuggled into a throw pillow.

"Thanks. Sorry I disrupted your day." Another yawn cracked her jaw.

I stepped back, brushing away the temptation to kiss her, pick her up, and carry her into her bedroom so we could nap together. "No trouble, Babe. Get some rest."

Her breathing grew soft and slow within a few minutes, and I knew she'd succumbed to slumber. Only then did I take my eyes off her to scout the apartment. Opening the fridge, I frowned. Save for a few bottles of condiments, two leftover slices of pizza, and three beers, it was empty. Her pantry fared no better.

Stepping out into the hall to avoid disturbing Steph, I pressed Ella's speed dial preset and lifted my phone to my ear. I explained my needs and she promised to bring it over within an hour. Next, I dialed Tank.

He answered on the second ring. "How is she?"

I smiled. How had one accident prone bounty hunter managed to enamor my entire staff? "She'll be laid up for a few days." I provided Tank a summary of events.

"You want me to clear your schedule for tomorrow and Wednesday too?"

"The whole week. Even once the eye patches come off, I think she's going to need some help. That, or she's going to try to go back to work before she should. Ella is bringing over my laptop, some clothes, and food, so I'll be able to work off site."

"Roger that."

"Oh, and Tank, see if you can't scare up some volunteers to go pick up Monty Parish."

Tank chuckled, the sound rumbling like a growl. "I think I'm going to have a hard time fighting off the volunteers."

"Just make sure he makes it to the station in one piece. The police will overlook some bruises, but not broken bones."

"Understood." And Tank disconnected.

My next call was to my mother. She answered cheerfully in Spanish. "Hola, hijo."

I responded in kind. "Mama, I'm afraid I won't be able to make it to dinner tonight." Genuine disappointment filled my tone. "Tell Becca I'm sorry I'll miss her big reveal. Text me if I'm getting a new niece or nephew."

A long, classic sigh came through the line. "Carlos, you work too hard."

"It's not work tonight, Mama. Steph got hurt this morning. I just brought her home from the ER, and she needs someone to look after her for the next couple of days."

"I hope it's nothing serious!"

"Thankfully, no. She got some dirt and gravel thrown in her face. She's required to keep both eyes covered with patches while the scratch heal, essentially rendering her temporarily blind."

A sigh of relief slipped from her lips, as if the injuries were to one of her own children. "Poor dear. She'd be welcome to dinner, too. I'd love to meet this Stephanie you always talk about. We all would."

"Not tonight." Perfectly healthy, meeting my family would be an ordeal in and of itself. One I never planned on asking Steph to endure. No way would I ever suggest she do it wearing eye patches.

"I suppose I'll accept that excuse this time, seeing as she's hurt. But one of these days, I will meet the women who stole my son's heart. Even if it means I hop in one of those Uber things and come looking for her in Trenton myself!"

I rubbed my left temple, staving off the headache forming. "Mama, as I've said before, Steph's just a friend."

"Bullshit."

There's very little in this world that can still surprise me. Hearing my devoutly Catholic mother utter that word, I nearly dropped my phone.

"Mother!"

"Carlos, anyone with two eyes can see you're in love with her every time you mention her name."

My voice cooled. Most sane people recognized it as a warning I was getting to the limit of my patience. "Mother, she and I are friends. I have no room in my life for a relationship, and she knows that."

My mother huffed, undaunted by the tone of my voice. "Carlos, whether you put a label on it or not, you have a relationship with Stephanie. What do I always tell you? Good relationships do not just happen. They take time, patience, and two people who truly want to be together. Now, I've seen you invest all three in this woman." I started to object, and she cut me off. "You would not be there taking care of her otherwise! So, unless she's crazy and doesn't want to be with you, I fail to see how you can tell me you aren't in a relationship with her."

"She's not crazy. She respects and adheres to the boundaries I put in place."

"Then you're the crazy one, child. And as blind as her, if in a different way."

The line went dead. I looked down at my phone, eyebrows knitting together. Did my own mother just hang up on me? Over Stephanie Plum?

Refusing to think more deeply on it, I tapped out a text to Connie, letting her know Steph was okay but out of commission for the rest of the week. If Vinnie had a problem with that, he could take it up with me. Seeing as the man nearly shit his pants anytime I walked into his office unannounced, that guaranteed he wouldn't have a problem with giving Steph a week off.

Reentering the apartment, I heard a soft buzzing. It stopped, then a moment later, started again. Tracking the sound, it let me to Steph's purse, which she'd dropped on the floor next to the sofa. Quickly, I snatched the bag before it could rouse her and carried it into the kitchen, digging through the disaster zone in search of her vibrating phone.

It silenced itself as soon as my hand fell around it. The spiderwebbed screen showed five missed calls from her mother and two from the cop. My finger poised over the power button, prepared to just shut the thing down. But, having just spoken with my own mother, a thistle of guilt tugged at my brain at the thought of leaving the Plums in the dark about Steph's condition.

I might have to issue myself hazard pay for this.

Jabbing the most recent missed call, the phone dialed as I raised the device to my ear. I'd had discussions with terrorists I'd looked forward to more than a conversation with Helen Plum.

"Stephanie! Finally. Do you know how many calls I've gotten? My daughter gets struck blind, and I have to hear about it from Dottie Howard. And they're saying you got wheeled out of the hospital by that Ranger man—"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Plum." A shocked gasp came through the line. "I just wanted to let you know that Steph is fine. She has some minor corneal abrasions that should heal in a few days with no lasting effects to her sight. I knew you'd be worried." The sarcasm lay heavy, but even I have my limits to my control. "I plan to ensure she's well cared for over the next few days and follows doctor's orders."

I hung up without waiting on a response. Then I powered off the phone. The cop could wait for Steph to call him back. And if she couldn't do that until her vision returned, all the better.

Tossing the phone back into Steph's bag, I hung it from the back of one of the dining chairs before taking a seat at the table. The open floor plan meant I was close enough to hear when Steph woke, but far enough from the couch I would not disturb her as I answered e-mails.

A white bag stamped with the logo for Mercer County Community College caught my attention. It rested on the far edge of the table near Steph's laptop. I knew she used the table more as a desk than an actual dining surface. For that, she'd need to have real food.

Curiosity got the better of me and I peeked inside the bag. Two books on business sat inside. The stereotypical yellow and black cover of a "Dummies" book got me to crack a smile. The other, The $100 Startup, got me thinking. Without a sound, I slipped the receipt out of the bag, my smile growing to a grin. The bag and books had likely sat, untouched, here on her table for close to a month. Purchased right around the time I got wind of her latest fight with the cop.

That wiped the smile off my face. I glanced over at Steph's sleeping form. Why had she called me over him? My eyes swung back to the untouched text books.

Babe, what's running through your mind?


	2. Imagining the Light

Chapter 2

Imagining the Light

**Steph's POV:**

I woke to darkness and panic. Sitting bolt upright, my hand scrambled at my face, trying to figure out why I couldn't see.

"Easy, Babe. Calm down." Ranger's steady voice sliced through the vice gripping my chest as he pulled my arms away from my eyes. Memories of my earlier accident trickled back as the last vestiges of drowsiness faded from my mind.

"How long have I been asleep?" The words scratched in my dry throat.

"A couple hours."

"Why are you still here?"

"I cleared my schedule for the rest of the week."

I sighed. "I'm fine. You've got clients and a business to run. I can take care of myself."

"Completely blind?"

"I've lived here long enough I can walk around with my eyes closed."

"Well, it's time for your eye drops. Can you find them?"

My jaw clenched. I'd fallen for this once in the hospital, with the wheelchair stunt. "Knock it off with the reverse psychology crap."

A humorless bark sounded from Ranger's direction. "Prove to me you can take care of yourself and I'll leave."

"Fine." I threw the blanket covering me onto the floor in a huff and planted both my feet on the carpet, easing myself into a standing position. Carefully, I shuffled sideways until I was sure I was clear of the coffee table. Turning, I took one step, caught my toe on the leg of the sofa, and pitched forward. A pair of strong arms grabbed me before I hit the floor.

"Don't suppose you'd give me a do over?" I asked sheepishly.

"You suppose correct." Ranger picked me up and plopped me back on the sofa. "I'm going to change the bandages on your eyes and put in your eyedrops."

His tone left no room for argument, so I lay back and tried to relax. Gently, Ranger peeled away the squares of gauze covering my eyes under the patches and I tried to crack my lids. Nothing happened.

"I can't open my eyes!" Hysteria crept into my voice.

"Relax. Your eyelashes are matted shut with discharge. Be right back. Don't try to get up."

The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. A few minutes later, it ceased. I caught a faint whiff of Bulgari as Ranger returned to my side. Something warm and wet touched my face. A washcloth, I realized after a moment of panic.

As soon as Ranger cleaned the gunk from my eyelashes, I rushed to open my eyes, eager for the chance to see something. Anything.

Immediately, I groaned and blinked them shut again. "Turn off the light."

"No lights are on, Babe. Common symptom of scratched corneas is hyper sensitivity to light."

"What did you do, read all of WebMD while I slept?"

A little humor crept into his tone. "An equal amount of Google and personal experience on the subject."

"Really?" I opened my eyes just a slit, enough so that I could make out his blurry form kneeling on the carpet next to the sofa.

"There's a reason the middle east is called the Sandbox. And I spent a lot of time deployed there. Got caught in a sandstorm once. By the time I made it back to base, I was lucky to be alive. Spent a week in the med tent, blind as a bat."

It was a hard reminder that Ranger wasn't Batman. He was human too. "Is that why you're helping me?"

Softly, Ranger's finger caressed the side of my face and I found myself leaning into the contact. "It's irrelevant that I've had a similar injury. You needed someone to take care of you and asked for me."

"I asked for you to pick me up from the hospital. You just as easily could have dropped me off at my mother's house and left her to take care of me."

Even blurry, I could identify Ranger's 200 watt smile. "Babe, I wouldn't inflict a week with your mother on my worst enemy. A bullet to the brain would be far more merciful."

I laughed so hard I started to cry. The tears stung. "No more jokes," I gasped as I swiped at the wetness trailing down my face.

"You think I was joking?" Ranger gently brushed away a few remaining drops.

"Speaking of my mother, I should call her. She's probably half way through a bottle of Jack Daniels and ironing the curtains."

Ranger's grin faded. "I let her know you're okay. Connie too. Everyone important."

I noticed he didn't include Morelli in that list. And seeing as we'd broken up, I figured Ranger's assessment might be accurate. Plus, I didn't relish telling Morelli that Ranger planned to play nurse for the next week. He'd hear through the grapevine that I was okay.

Looking especially grim, Ranger informed me, "Time for your eye drops. I've already let you go without the patches for too long."

"Back to darkness," I sighed.

Ranger paused momentarily, then suddenly leaned forward, brushing his lips against mine for a just a second. "I'll help you imagine the light," he whispered so softly I might have hallucinated it.

Before I could ask him what he meant, he held an eye dropper over my right eye. "These are going to sting a bit, Babe."

With no further warning, he squeezed the tip and three heavy drops fell into my eye. Might as well have been lava. My sharp gasp accompanied my back arching off the sofa, as both my eyelids slammed shut. Ranger pried the left one open with his thumb and forefinger as I whimpered, but he applied the medication despite my wordless protest.

"Some bedside manner you got," I finally managed to grunt about a minute later, the burning dulling to an ache.

This time, it was Ranger who laughed long and hard. "Play your cards right, Babe, and I'll show you some different bedside manners later."

The fire behind my eyes shot south. At least it gave me a different ache to concentrate on. "I thought I said no more jokes."

Ranger growled, then pressed his mouth to mine hungrily. When he pulled away a few minutes later, I could barely catch my breath. "That was a promise," he whispered hoarsely into my ear. Then he busied himself with reapplying clean gauze to my eyes. With the patches back in place, my world returned to perpetual night.

My stomach growled loudly as Ranger finished.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"A little after two."

No wonder my stomach was complaining. "I missed lunch. Any chance you would make me a peanut butter and olive sandwich?" It was pretty much the only food in my apartment.

"No."

I opened my mouth to point out that part of taking care of me involved feeding me, but Ranger chuckled and placed a finger on my lips.

"But I will bring you one of the sandwiches Ella brought over while you were sleeping."

I sensed him move away, something in the air changing. It was hard to grasp, but it almost felt like a part of my body had been removed. Nothing vital to life, but a mild discomfort remained.

From the kitchen, the refrigerator door opened and shut. A plate clinked on the countertop. Ice cubes rattled as they fell into a glass, then the chug of liquid being poured. I pushed myself into a sitting position and a minute later a plate landed on my lap. The cushions depressed to my left as Ranger joined me on the sofa.

The discomfort faded instantly.

Tentatively, my fingers explored the plate. Something soft, probably bread. A pile of cold, wet sticks. I sniffed one. Carrots. "Don't suppose Ella sent any potato chips?"

"You suppose correct again." I heard the smile in his words.

Carefully, I felt for the edges of the sandwich, picked it up, and took a bite. Roasted turkey breast with provolone cheese on whole wheat. No mayo, just yellow mustard. And, was that bacon? I took another bite. It tasted like bacon. It crunched like bacon. But I had doubts whether it actually contained pork. Still, it was a delicious sandwich. Once it was gone, I nibbled at the carrot sticks unenthusiastically.

I felt Ranger rise, returning a moment later. The weight of my plate disappeared from my lap, and instead a light paper bag filled its spot. Unfolding the top, the aroma of chocolate assailed my nose.

I knew that scent anywhere. "A Boston cream donut from Tasty Pastry!"

Ranger chuckled from somewhere to my left. "Babe. You never disappoint."

Devouring the donut, I patted my stomach contently as I finished, slouching into the cushions. "I know you're new to the whole donut buying scene, but for future reference, nearly going blind in a bad takedown calls for at least half a dozen donuts, minimum."

Even though I couldn't see a damn thing, I imagined Ranger shaking his head at me. As he slid toward me, the cushions depressed so I fell into his side. "You've got chocolate on your lips." His mouth landed on mine a second later, tongue swirling gently across the edges of my mouth.

Someone moaned. It might have been me.

Too soon, he pulled away. My groan of frustration followed. He settled me into his side, arm slung around my shoulder so that my head rested on his chest. Idly, his fingers stroked the bare skin on my arm.

"Thinking of starting your own business, Babe?"

Well, that question came out of nowhere. "What?"

"The text books on your dining room table. Small Business for Dummies and The $100 Startup."

I groaned. "Shit. I totally forgot. MCCC is offering a business startup class at their Trenton Campus this week for adult learners. I signed up a month ago, when I had money and eyesight. Guess that's three hundred dollars I'm never getting back."

"That didn't answer my question, Steph."

I sighed. I'd hoped to keep this to myself. In hindsight, my brilliant idea a month ago now seemed hairbrained at best. So I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

"You're thinking about leaving bounty hunting?" I expected to hear hope in his tone. That's certainly what would have filled Morelli's. Instead, all I detected was honest curiosity.

I shrugged again. "I like bounty hunting. I enjoy the challenge of tracking someone down, following the clues. And I'm pretty good at that part. The problems start once I move from tracking to the take down." I motioned toward my patched eyes. "So I contemplated starting a business that just did the tracking for other bounty hunters. Ones who are good at the take down but might need some assistance with finding the skip first. Figured I could offer my services for a percentage of their cut of the bond."

"It would mean breaking ties with Vinnie," Ranger added matter-of-factly.

"I know, but to be successful, I'd have to offer my services to a multitude of bond agents. Though, I don't think Vinnie would be sorry to see my backside in his rearview mirror."

"So, have you got a business plan?"

"I believe that's one of the things I was supposed to learn about this week." I sighed. "It was a dumb idea, anyway."

"That's your mother talking." His arm grew tense around my shoulders. "If you want to try it, Babe, I think you should go for it."

"I don't even know where to start. I was kind of hoping that's where the class would help."

"You've still got the books."

"And no eyesight. Besides, I'm not super great at book learning. Even with a professor to guide me, I barely made it through college. I don't know what possessed me to think I could start my own business."

An uncomfortable silence rolled over us, Ranger still holding me stiffly. "The better question is, what possessed you to think you couldn't?" he finally growled.

I opened my mouth to spit out the laundry list of reasons why I would fail at this, but he silenced me with his lips, hard against mine. "Rhetorical, Babe. I know exactly why you think you can't. And so do you. Between your mother and Morelli, I'm surprised you even signed up for the class in the first place. You did it right after you broke it off with him again, didn't you?"

I'd done it literally the day after our last fight. Ranger must have read the shock on my face, because he continued, "It's been, what, a little over a month? About the time you two usually kiss and make up. And suddenly you're second guessing yourself on the business thing, too."

The bitterness in his voice felt like a punch to the sternum, and for a few seconds I couldn't inhale. He'd never spoken badly of Morelli before. At least, never in front of me. "You told me to go back to him," I whispered, clamping my hand over my mouth a second later when I realized I'd said it aloud. We'd never spoken about the aftermath of that first night we spent together.

The cushions shifted, and his arm withdrew from around my shoulders, leaving my skin cold. "I'm sorry. Don't go!" The words caught in my throat, coming out hoarse. I reached out, trying to grab him even though I had no idea where he stood.

"I'm not leaving, Steph." His hands circled my waist, dragging me forward until I was sitting in his lap, my hands against his chest, his breath warm on my face. Slowly, he lifted my right hand and placed it on the side of his face. His skin warmed my palm, stubble from the start of a five o'clock shadow rough against my fingertips.

"Stop listening to the naysayers and believe in yourself. You think it was easy getting Rangeman off the ground? That there weren't those who only saw a juvenile delinquent and college dropout? Or a soldier only capable of following orders? Do you know how many banks turned me down for a business loan? How many potential investors wouldn't even schedule a meeting to hear my pitch?"

"But your family supported you?"

He stayed silent for a moment. "Yes. My mother is the type of person who would support me if I told her I wanted to grow wings and fly to the moon. It's not as helpful as you might think."

"I'm pretty sure I won't have support from banks, investors, OR my mother."

"That's why you've got me."

"I'm not taking any money from you to start my business."

"I wasn't offering any money." He paused, and I could feel his lips turn upward under my hand. "At least, not yet. I'd make you present a business plan first."

"This wouldn't be the sort of business plan I pitch in the nude, would it?"

A low growl sounded just before his lips brushed the skin on the side of my neck. "That would be a highly unorthodox approach, but I'm not opposed."

"I might not have read those books yet, but I'm pretty sure there's a saying about mixing business with pleasure."

"Hmmm," he hummed into my skin and my heart began to race. "It is risky. Of course, I wouldn't be where I am today if I didn't take risks." His mouth kissed up my neck as my head fell back, a small moaning slipping past my lips.

It took a good deal of self-control to push away from him. It appeared Ranger planned to spend the next three days with me. But he would, I reminded myself, eventually leave once I could see again. The status quo would return, and my bed would become cold and lonely once more. Dancing the horizontal mambo could only make that inevitability hurt worse.

"This seems an awful lot like we're racing toward that naked business proposition." I flopped onto the sofa, off his lap, and crossed my arms. "If it's not money, what are you offering me?"

"Advice. Support. For now, a set of eyes that can read to you."

"You're going to read to me? Out loud?"

"No, I thought we'd attempt it telepathically," he deadpanned.

"Ooh, sarcasm. That's a new emotion for you!" I clapped my hands in fake enthusiasm, then squealed as he suddenly grabbed me and pushed me into the cushions. Heavy weight pressed down on me as his lips ravished mine, my hands snaking through his hair as all thoughts of joking left my mind.

His chest heaved against mine when his lips finally stopped their assault. "Babe, I'm going to give you two choices," his voice hissed huskily into my ear. "I can read to you and we can discuss business. Or I can take you into the bedroom, fuck you senseless, and I won't mention business again. Up to you."

It was like being given a choice between Brussel sprouts and chocolate fudge lava cake a la mode. I knew which one I wanted. Craved. And I also knew which one was actually good for me. The healthy option. I sensed Ranger testing me. How serious was I about starting my own business?

If I was honest with myself, the idea was completely terrifying. I'd rather be dangling from a bridge over the Delaware again than considering a business venture. But at the same time, I wasn't getting any younger. And my skips weren't getting any easier to take down. Today I'd dodged a bullet. Not literally, though I did that a lot too. But I knew just how close I'd come to being seriously injured and losing my sight permanently. Something had to give.

"Don't set off the smoke alarms, Babe." Ranger chuckled lightly as his weight lifted off me.

Without the sensation of his arousal pressed against my thigh, it made the choice much easier. Hear ye, hear ye, make it known that for once in her life, Stephanie Plum was picking the non-chocolate option.

"Let's talk business, Batman."

Eyes not needed to feel the grin he shot back at me.

* * *

**Ranger's POV:**

The ultimatum I'd given Steph was total bullshit as, apparently, my mother would put it. If she really wanted to start a business, I wouldn't let that spark die. I'd more than happily fuck her senseless first, if that's what she picked, and bring up the business later. But part of me wanted to see if her heart was really in it.

The look of concentration on her bandaged face nearly caused me to laugh aloud, as she mulled over my offer. I mulled it over too. I'd fucked her senseless before. That first, glorious, unforgettable night we'd spent together. Then, as she'd aptly put it a few minutes ago, I'd sent her back to him. The cop. And then I'd watched from afar as he screwed up time and time again. But she always went back. Because she wanted things to work out with him, I'd thought.

It wasn't until just now, when she'd spoken the words aloud, I realized how appallingly wrong I'd been. Her tone not that of anger, but of disbelief. A soldier following orders and then shamed for doing so. She didn't go back to him time and time again because of a tenacity to fix the relationship.

No. She did so because I'd told her to.

She didn't want to be with a man who constantly tried to change her. Who didn't support her life choices. She went back to him because I'd given her no other option.

Dammit, my mother was right. It was the blind leading the blind here.

"Don't set off the smoke alarms, Babe," I quipped, unable to take the silence any longer as I moved away. If she chose the second option, I'd end up breaking two of my promises. Not only would I bring up her business venture again, but there would be no fucking involved.

I intended to make slow, passionate love to her. And ruin her for the cop. Forever.

She took a deep breath, her fists balled up at her sides. "Let's talk business, Batman."

The smile that split my face was immediate. Grabbing the books from the dining room table, I returned to my place next to her on the sofa. She snuggled into my side as I began to read.

We spent the next three hours nestled together. I'd read a few pages, stop, let her ask questions or share insights on the subject from my own experiences. Her thoughts were deep, her brain running two or three chapters ahead. Her impatience to grasp it all completely beguiling.

"I have too many ideas in my head," she muttered, interrupting me mid-sentence. "If I don't write it down I'm afraid I'm going to forget it all come tomorrow."

Retrieving my laptop, I transcribed her thoughts, my fingers humming across the keys as fast as the words pouring from her lips. By the time she finally stopped speaking, she had the better part of a business plan, though I knew she didn't know it. It was jumbled and out of order, but it was mostly there. And it wasn't awful. Not by a long shot.

Steph slumped over, her arm thrown across her patched eyes. "Why do I feel like I just ran a marathon?"

"You've had a long day." I saved the document and snapped the lid shut. Placing the laptop on her coffee table, I leaned over and let my lips wander across hers. "Proud of you, Babe."

She blushed lightly, turning her face away from me. It stung like a slap. How had the people who supposedly cared about her the most destroyed her self-confidence to the point where she couldn't even accept a simple compliment?

"Did Ella send enough sandwiches for dinner?" she mumbled into the back of the sofa.

Leave it to Steph to change the subject to revolve around food. I glanced at my cell phone. "She should be by any moment with dinner."

A frown crossed her lovely face. "She doesn't need to do that. I'd be totally okay with pizza or take out."

I chuckled. "I am well aware of that. But I prefer what Ella cooks. And she'd be cooking for me if I were at home, anyway."

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

Ten minutes later, Steph settled into a chair at her dining room table. Ella had delivered grilled Salmon with roasted red potatoes, baby carrots, and string beans, as well as prepped ingredients for the next two days and a crock pot to cook them in.

With the edge of a fork, I broke the Salmon into bite sized chunks on Steph's plate before placing it in front of her with a soft chink of china. Her left hand slid across the tabletop until it encountered the edge of the dish, holding it steady. A fork trembled in her right hand, and she carefully stabbed at the plate. It took three tries before she finally speared a piece of salmon and I grinned at the triumphant smirk that crossed her face as she popped it into her mouth.

I'd offer to feed her if for an instant I thought she'd accept. But I knew it would only mortify her. And she'd sooner starve than ask me herself. Instead, I watched her struggle and persevere as I ate silently. If a few attempts with her fork yielded her nothing, her nimble fingers would brush across the plate in search of new morsels. Then she'd lick her fingers clean before forking more food into her mouth.

Good thing she didn't know how much it turned me on every time she sucked a digit between her lips.

Finally, mercifully, she cleaned her plate. Any more and I might have taken her on the dining room floor. Rising, I carried the dishes into the kitchen, my pants uncomfortably tight. When I returned, she'd already groped her way back to the sofa.

My head shook at her stubbornness while a smile tugged my lips upward.

As I was drying the last plate, Steph called to me from the living room. "Ranger, your phone is vibrating."

Scooping up the phone from the coffee table, my sister's name flashed across the screen as I answered reflexively in Spanish. "Hello, little sister. Called to tell me if I'm getting a new niece or nephew?"

"No, I called to tell you that your absence at dinner was noted, and if you want to know if you're getting a niece or nephew, you'll need to make a personal appearance." My sister's taunt held an edge I wasn't used to hearing in her tone.

"Didn't Mama explain why I couldn't come?"

"She did. And while I'm downright giddy that a woman managed to capture your heart enough that you'd take a week off work to take care of her, I'm disappointed my big brother wasn't here to share in my special news."

"Becca, I'm sorry—"

"I'm not asking for an apology." My eyes widened. I wasn't used to being cut off. First my mother, now Becca. What had gotten into my family? "If you want to find out what I'm having, then I suggest you plan to come to dinner on Friday. With this Stephanie of yours."

I could see her trap from a mile away, and I had no intention of falling into it. By Friday, Steph might be very capable of taking care of herself again. But there was no way I was dragging her to dinner with my family. They'd pounce on her like a cat on a field mouse. "Becca, I'll try to make it. Alone."

"No deal, Carlos. It's both of you or neither. And don't think you'll weasel the information out of someone else in the family. They've all been given specific orders not to breathe a word to you."

I chuckled. As the baby of the family, Becca was used to getting her way. Well, we weren't kids anymore, and I wasn't caving to her threat. "The military taught me a great deal of patience, little sister. I can wait the four months until my nephew or niece makes his or her appearance and find out then."

"I suspected as much. I'll keep the gag order in place. I swear, no member of this family will give you one piece of information. No name. No gender. Nothing."

"Records of birth are fairly easy to obtain online, and with the search programs my company utilizes…"

"Carlos!" Her exasperated shout stopped me mid-sentence. "Friday. Dinner. Bring Stephanie." She took a deep breath. "Please. For me. I want to share this with you. You've missed so many other family celebrations…"

As her voice trailed off, my heart constricted inside my chest. Dammit, she was still just as good at coercion at twenty-eight as she'd been at five. "As long as she agrees, we'll be there."

A girlish screech came through the line, shrill enough I moved the phone from my ear. "Wait until I tell everyone! See you Friday. I can't wait!" And she hung up.

Putting my phone back on the coffee table, a pair of sightless eyes bore into the back of my head.

"Who's Becca?"

"My youngest sister."

"Oh." Steph's shoulders relaxed.

"Jealous, Babe?"

"Of course not," she shot back.

I sank into the cushion next to her and pulled her close. "Steph, do you really think I'd be here taking care of you if I had someone else on the side?"

She flushed slightly, and I knew that's exactly what she'd been thinking. "Well, you don't usually speak to people in Spanish in front of me. So I assumed it was because you didn't want me to understand the conversation. I mean, when all I can understand is a woman's name…"

Damn. How had she come to know me so well? That was exactly why I'd answered in Spanish. Though, not for the reasons she supposed. When I spoke to my family, I always did it in Spanish to avoid anyone eavesdropping. Steph was the only person, short of Tank, who I could care less about overhearing a personal conversation.

"You're right. I'm sorry. It's a habit I need to break."

"You didn't want me to understand your conversation with your sister?" Her lips turned downward, her voice small and injured. The pout spreading across her lips proved too tempting to resist. Leaning over, I kissed her softly. She jumped in surprise, but then laid a warm hand on the side of my face.

"I just told you it's a habit I need to break around you."

My mother's words echoed inside my head. I'd long kept my relationship with Steph vaguely undefined, but a relationship it remained. One in which I kept her close physically, but at an arm's length emotionally. Or at least, I'd attempted to. She already knew more about me than most others.

I thought back to our afternoon spent discussing business. The unbridled enthusiasm in her questions. If I continued to shut her out, sent her packing back to the cop yet again, he'd kill it. Not intentionally, but he wanted Steph to be something antithetical to her genetic makeup. Her confidence was so fragile, if it weren't carefully tended and protected, she'd give up on this idea after the first bump in the road. And even with my help, there would be bumps. There always were.

But if I were selfish enough to keep her? My heart ached thinking of faceless foes that might try to hurt her just to get to me. Those who had already tried, and by some miracle, came away unsuccessful.

I must keep treading this knife's edge. Keeping it undefined kept her safe.

"You're thinking," she said suddenly, what I could see of her eyebrows crinkled.

"Why do you say that?"

Her fingers skipped across my skin, softer than rose petals. "Your jaw tensed, and little wrinkles formed next to your eyes." She traced them as she spoke, then grinned. "You'll give yourself crows feet if you're not careful."

"God forbid." When she giggled, I pressed my lips to hers again, momentarily. "My sister called to berate me for skipping the family dinner tonight. She's expecting and announced to the family tonight if it was a boy or a girl."

Steph pulled back, scowling. "And you missed it for me? You should have gone." She attempted to smack my shoulder, I think, but miscalculated, her arm slicing through air.

"I warned my mother in advance. My sister is just being…" I shrugged, searching for a word and coming up with nothing, "Becca."

Arms crossed, Steph huffed. "I hate that I made you miss the big reveal."

"Babe, don't worry about it. Especially because our presence has been requested at dinner Friday night."

"Our presence?"

"You don't have to go if you don't want to."

She chewed her bottom lip. "How does your sister know about me?"

"Because I explained to my mother what happened to you and why I couldn't make it tonight." It skirted around the truth without being an outright lie.

Her lips tilted skeptically. "Let me rephrase that. How long has your sister known about me?"

Well, no way to skirt around that one. "Since Scrog. It didn't take them long to figure out you meant something to me since you were involved."

"What exactly do they think we are?"

"I couldn't tell you what they think, Babe."

"You could take an educated guess," she prodded, clearly unamused by my ambiguity.

There was a time when Steph wouldn't have dared demand a more precise answer. When I could make her squirm with just a hard look. I tried to nail down exactly when that had changed.

Then it hit me. I didn't care when it had changed. I enjoyed this demanding, unintimidated Babe. "Like I said, they know you mean something to me. When pressed, I tell them you're a close friend. I doubt I'm fooling anyone though, since they always ask how you are when I see them. What they suspect beyond that…I can't be certain."

"Meeting the parents," she mused lightheartedly, rubbing her chin. "That's a big risk when you're a man of mystery. Never know if your father will recount that humiliating story from your youth."

"Little chance of that happening."

"Let me guess, he's the strong silent type like you?"

"He passed away about a year ago."

Steph's hand flew to her mouth, covering her little gasp. "Omigod. I didn't…I mean…Ranger, I'm sorry."

I kissed away her chagrin, lips on her forehead. "No worries, Babe. You didn't know."

She stayed silent for a minute. "Do you want me to come with you Friday night?"

"I'm not going to force you to do some—"

"Not what I asked, Ranger. Do you want me to come with you Friday night?"

"My family can be a bit overwhelm—"

"Don't make me ask it a third time!" She shouted, planting her fists into her hips.

If I told her no, it would be tantamount to my departure after our first night together. Equivalent to telling her to go back to the cop.

The knife's edge suddenly felt a hell of a lot thinner.

"Yes."

She smiled. "See, that wasn't so hard. Guess that means I'd better make sure I have these darn eye patches off before then, right?" Her hands waved vaguely toward her face. "After all, you endured a few dinners with my parents and lived to tell about it. How bad could your family be?"

I pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. The woman never ceased to amaze me. Anyone else would make a big deal out of it. She told jokes. My father, rest his soul, would advise me to marry her immediately.

There were some days I wanted to do just that, too.


	3. Seeing Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning for this chapter. Read at your own risk.

Chapter 3

Seeing Stars

**Steph's POV:**

Hearing Ranger say he wanted me to come to dinner with him Friday set a cage full of butterflies loose in my stomach. Not only to meet his mother, but also at least one of his sisters. It made him nervous. I could tell, since he'd attempted to misdirect me twice before answering. So, I didn't press him on why, as much as I wanted to.

Instead, I teased him. "See, that wasn't so hard. Guess that means I'd better make sure I have these darn eye patches off before then, right? After all, you endured a few dinners with my parents and lived to tell about it. How bad could your family be?"

No way they could be worse than mine. After all, he had a very normal sounding Grandma Rosa, who liked to cook. I had one who ordered pay-per-view porn and pried open casket lids. No contest.

His lips grazed the top of my head as soon as I stopped speaking. I sighed, feeling grungy. My fingers ran over my hair, and I swear they came away oily. "I really want to take a shower, but I'm guessing I can't take the patches off long enough to do so."

"Not unless you can take a three-minute shower."

"No one can take a three-minute shower. That would break the laws of physics, like rain falling up or something."

I swear I could hear the smile in his response. "Could you live with a bath instead?"

"Was kind of hoping to wash my hair."

"I could wash your hair in the sink, Babe. Like they do at a salon. Then you could soak in the tub."

The mental image collided with my normal perception of Ranger. Why would he offer to do something so out of character? Of course, if he thought he'd get to see me naked... "You know I'm not going to invite you into the tub, right? There will be no benefit for you to wash my hair."

Silence descended heavily. "You think I'm here doing this for you because I'm looking for a reward?" The words were cold, spit between clenched teeth. "Didn't I once explain to you that there is no tab for what we give each other?"

"I'm sorry," I ground, equally annoyed. "But I'm having a hard time reconciling the big, scary, black-wearing, throws-people-off-parking-decks Army guy with a man offering to wash my hair."

"Really? You can't imagine a man washing the hair of a woman he loves because she's injured and can't do it herself? Just because you've also seen him save her life?"

I rubbed my temples. "It's a bit disconcerting, yes! I'm used to seeing you in protector mode. This…this is more akin to…I don't know…boyfriend mode." Even then, I couldn't see Morelli offering to wash my hair. Especially without the promise of sex after.

"Well, if you tell anyone outside this room I washed your hair, I'll deny it until the day I die. And I'll pour hair removal cream into your shampoo bottle for revenge."

Ahh, there was the Ranger I'd grown to love. With the reaction I'd expected.

"The day you die might come sooner than you'd like if you try that."

He laughed long and hard at that. "Bring it on, Babe."

The cushions shifted as he stood. A few seconds later, I heard water gushing in the bathroom as he began to fill the tub. A couple more minutes passed before he came back to retrieve me.

"Just trust me, Babe," he murmured as I held his arm and walked to the bathroom. Carefully, he turned me around. "Now go ahead and sit down."

I couldn't do it on blind trust alone. I had to reach out, groping until I felt the wooden back of one of my dining room chairs. Only then did I ease myself into the seat.

"I'm going to tip you back."

My knuckles tightened along the sides of the chair as I felt myself falling backwards. I yelped as I suddenly stopped at a forty-five-degree angle.

"When have I ever let you fall, Babe?" His voice sounded light hearted as he gently pulled the elastic band from my hair, my frizzy curls expanding outward instantly. He ran a brush through the locks, careful not to tug too hard on any tangles. Then the sound of the sink facet joined that of the tub. "Now tilt your head back."

I did as he asked, the cold sink edge chilling the back of my neck. Luke warm water splashed over my scalp, a few drops cascading down the side of my face. Ranger caught them with a hand towel. The facet turned off and a cap popped open, the tropical aroma of my shampoo suddenly filling the space. I bit back a little moan as Ranger massaged it into my hair.

"If the security business doesn't work out, there's a future for you in hairdressing."

My chair skittered forward and I screeched, muscles tensing. Ranger chuckled. "Don't antagonize the man currently balancing your chair, Babe."

A few minutes later, I was upright. My hair rinsed, wrung, and wrapped in a towel. The sound of water abruptly ended as Ranger stopped filling the tub.

"I can get the rest from here," I assured him.

"Are you sure?" He whispered the suggestive words into my ear and a warm heat grew south of my belly button.

I gulped. "Positive." My voice squeaked in betrayal.

Ranger's lips brushed down my neck, feather light. "Let me know if you need any assistance."

"Will do," I managed to croak, using my last few ounces of sanity to push him toward the door. At least, I hoped it was toward the door.

He exhaled loudly. I might have mistaken it for a sigh, except Ranger didn't bother with such trivial expressions of emotion. "May I come back in once you're in the tub? I could read more from your business book."

I hesitated. Tempting Ranger was a dangerous game. My silence must have spoken volumes, because Ranger suddenly took my hand. "I won't be able to see you, Babe." He stretched out my hand and my fingers encountered a mountain of foam. He'd filled my tub with bubble bath.

The offer was too good to refuse. I'd enjoyed his recitation earlier. Ranger had a soothing voice, when he chose to use it in such a way. And he could explain confusing concepts better than any teacher I'd had previously, probably because he knew me so well.

"I'd like that," I finally confessed.

He left me alone, evidenced by the click of the door shutting. I pulled the towel off my head and groped around until I found a clam shell clip. Twisting my damp hair back, I secured it on the top of my head. Then I carefully undressed and used the toilet before slipping into the hot water and sinking beneath the bubbly foam. The tension melted off my body.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the door. "Come in," I shouted, using my hands to ensure the mounds of bubbles concealed my bits that would most interest Ranger.

A cold draft signaled his entrance, and a second later the scrape of the dining chair on the linoleum as he moved it to the tub. I listened raptly as he began to read, asking questions when I needed clarification. At times, he stopped to share his thoughts, which were honestly more useful than the book itself.

"I think we should call it quits for the night, Babe," he finally said, the book snapping shut.

"What? Why?" I had really been getting into it.

"Because your water has gone cold, your lips are turning blue, and all the bubbles are gone." His voice grew husky with his final words.

Crap. So much for not tempting him.

"I'll leave a towel on the chair for you," he continued. Shockingly, the door opened then closed, and I was left alone.

Drying off, I wrapped the towel around myself and cautiously felt for the door. As soon as I stepped into the hallway, I sensed Ranger hovering at my side. He didn't touch me, allowing me to run my fingers along my wall until I encountered the negative space marking the doorway to my bedroom.

Finding clothes would likely prove to be difficult. Getting them on correctly, near impossible. I sighed. "If I ask you to dress me, you think you can do it without seducing me?"

"Can I do it? Sure. Whether I choose to use my powers for good instead of evil…"

I felt the air change. The electrical charge surrounding me a telltale sign he had closed the distance between us. Tilting my chin upward, I encouraged his mouth to crash down upon mine. His lips consumed mine greedily, tongue thrusting roughly against mine. One of his hands slid along my spine and under the hem of the towel to cup my ass. Lines of fire shot through my veins, raising goosebumps on my skin that headed south. A low moan rumbled in my chest as my arms slid around his neck, and the towel fell away.

"Guess you chose evil," I murmured as his mouth traveled along my jaw and onto my neck.

His lips froze, and I could feel them curl into a smile against my flesh. "You make it very hard to be good, Babe. But you hold all the power. You need only tell me stop."

He'd given me an out, but I hesitated. I knew the kind of magic he brought in the bedroom. I'd seen it first hand on multiple occasions. And if I was honest with myself, the fact I couldn't see sent a new thrill through me that would have ruined my panties, if I was wearing any. I wouldn't know what he planned to do, where he planned to touch me, kiss me… Another moan slipped through my lips.

"I think I like your brand of evil."

He needed no further invitation. I screeched as he suddenly lifted me, my back bouncing off the mattress a second later. His heavy weight pressed me down. I gasped as he sucked one of my nipples, his hand gently kneading the opposite breast as I writhed. My hips ground against his, an irritating amount of fabric between us. Blindly, in every sense of the word, I fumbled for his button and fly.

Instead, I found the bottom edge of his shirt. Fisting the fabric, I tugged, and Ranger lifted away just long enough for it to slip over his head. I tossed it away and returned my hands to his skin, allowing the tips of my fingers to illuminate the memories of his chiseled form in my mind. Slipping along his defined shoulders, I encountered a patch of rough skin, which I knew marked one of the places Scrog shot him. Sliding lower, his pectorals twitched under my touch. Lower still, his muscles undulated beneath my explorations, a perfect example of why they call them washboard abs. Another scar marred his flesh here, from a knife blade long before I'd met him.

Finally, my fingers brushed fabric. Ranger remained motionless during my little journey, but when I skated under his waistband to find him commando, he groaned and leaned forward. The movement encouraged me to wrap my hand around his cock, thick and hard.

His hands returned to both my breasts, lips skipping along the side of my neck, teeth nipping gently. My breaths escalated as I stroked him. My thumb rubbed across his silky soft head, finding a bead of moisture at his tip. I repeated the motion, pleased at his sharp inhale. One of his hands left my chest and slipped between my legs, drawing out a sensual whimper as he circled my clit. I gave him a rough tug and he pushed a finger inside me, then another.

We moved together, his fingers mirroring the movements of my hand. His thumb brushed across my nub of electrified nerve endings, and I moaned his name. He circled the spot again and again in ever tighter circuits until only garbled nonsense fell from my lips. His digits curled inside my center, and my back arched off the bed as the world imploded, sucked into one infinitesimally dense point of ecstasy before exploding outward again, my cries rising to the heavens.

I was still gasping for breath when he moved off me, and I heard a zipper followed by the rustle of cloth hitting the floor. With no warning, he buried himself in my core, and I cried out again. He rocked his hips, his rhythm rough and deep. My legs circled his waist, drawing him into me as deeply as possible. Nails scrambled over his taunt back, struggling to find purchase as we danced along a fine line between pain and pleasure.

Glorious tension built in my belly again as my mewling entreaties begged him to go deeper, harder, faster. He obliged, our bodies melding as close to one as two living beings could get. Balancing on the edge of an abyss, Ranger unexpectedly tilted his hips and I fell over the edge. A supernova bloomed behind my eyes, colors bursting in the darkness like shooting stars streaking across the night sky. So preoccupied by my personal light show, I barely registered his loud groan until I realized our bodies had stilled.

Chests heaving, only our heavy pants broke the silence. He feathered soft kisses across my lips and jaw for a few minutes before rolling off me.

"I believe we came in here to get you dressed." I could tell by his voice he was smiling.

Laughter curled my body into a ball. "I believe we failed at that miserably."

"Just took a leisurely detour." The mattress bounced as he rolled off. A drawer opened and closed a second later, followed by several more. Even considering what we'd just done, I still flushed slightly at the idea of Ranger pawing through my underwear.

"Sit on the edge of the bed, Babe."

I obeyed. Ranger slipped my feet through the holes in a pair of underwear, then into the legs of a pair of cotton shorts. He let me shimmy them both up and over my hips. Next, a loose t-shirt went over my head.

"It's time for your eye drops again," Ranger informed me once I was dressed.

I groaned but pushed myself back on the bed, so I could lay down and let him administer them. The only bright spot in the procedure was the literal bright spot. Blinking against my dim bedside light, blindingly luminous in my current state, Ranger's blurry form came into view. He'd slipped his pants back on but remained gloriously shirtless.

"Hey," he said softly, cupping the side of my face as he leaned over me.

"Hey," I returned, placing my hand over his.

"You're handling this well, Babe. Most people would be freaking out over losing their vision for a few days."

I shrugged. "What choice do I have? Freaking out won't make my eyes heal any faster." I offered him a small smile. "And if I only get a few minutes of sight for the next couple of days, I'm glad it's you I get to see."

"Babe." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His face too blurry to make out any emotion, but his fingers curled gently against my flesh.

* * *

**Ranger's POV:**

Her hazy blue eyes blinked a few times before focusing. My hand caressed the side of her face. "Hey."

She smiled, despite the light, which I was sure caused her discomfort. It was a necessary evil, however, for me to be able to tend to her. "Hey," she muttered back, her hand covering mine and squeezing gently.

"You're handling this well, Babe. Most people would be freaking out over losing their vision for a few days." It had practically driven me insane, the helplessness of it. She really did astound me.

She offered me a diffident shrug in reply. "What choice do I have? Freaking out won't make my eyes heal any faster. And if I only get a few minutes of sight for the next couple of days, I'm glad it's you I get to see."

Her soft words echoed with so much affection, it chased the air from my lungs. "Babe." It took me a second to regain my composure, but when I reopened my eyes, she still held me entranced. Her eyes bored into mine, vaulting all my defenses until I was sure she could see my tarnished soul laid bare before her.

"Why did you ask the hospital to call me today?" The words escaped through a crack in my emotional armor, my mind wobbling on the thin line I walked.

Steph blinked, her bloodshot eyes widening before her cheeks reddened and she broke the stare, face turning away. With gentle pressure, I directed her chin back, but she still refused to meet my eyes.

"It's stupid," she finally mumbled.

"I highly doubt that." Not if it produced this strong of a reaction.

"Because…well, you were the only person I could think of who wouldn't judge and lecture me about getting hurt."

"And that embarrasses you?" I asked wryly, the corners of my lips pulling up at the irony.

Her face went blank for a second, then she laughed, her features coming alive. "I'm pretty messed up, aren't I?"

Not by a long shot. Not compared to me. "For not wanting to be judged? That's not messed up."

"I'm sorry I screwed up the rest of your week. I didn't expect you to drop everything."

Back to this. "If you'd known, you would have called someone else?"

She didn't need to answer. Her eyes told me everything. "You do too much for me."

I pushed away from her slightly, breaking our contact. "You'd rather be lectured and left to fend for yourself because you think I do too much for you?"

"I don't like being lectured. But I also don't like being a charity case. Even given a thousand years, I could never repay you, it's so lopsided in your favor."

I shook my head, scowling. "You've got that backwards, Babe."

Her lips drew a grim line. "You're going to have to do the math for me on that one. Cause the cars alone amount to a fortune."

"The material things I give you amount to nothing, Babe, not compared to what you deserve. All those things that make life worth living that I couldn't give you: commitment, my name, children."

I hoped her silence meant she now understood the give and take between us. She gave me far more than I'd ever given her in return. She'd led me out of the darkness, turned the place I slept into a home, given me hope that even a man as broken as I could be redeemed if he could be allowed to love this deeply. To love a woman so purely good. Even if it was love I could never requite.

"You used the past tense." Her mumbled words caused my eyebrows to knit.

"What?"

"You said 'couldn't' not 'can't.' The things you couldn't give me." She fixed me with an expectant stare.

"A subconscious slip. I should have said 'can't'."

"I've known you long enough to know you don't misspeak. It means you've been thinking about it." She crossed her arms, her anticipative look deepening.

"Thinking doesn't change reality, Babe."

"No, but it suggests that when you say 'can't' you should really be saying 'won't'."

When did she become so astute to semantics? "What I won't do is put you in danger. No matter what I want, it's not worth painting a target on your back."

"Pretty sure that ship sailed with Scrog."

I sighed. "A bigger target then. You're not a sure thing right now. It would be a calculated guess, if someone wanted to get to me, to do it through you. But if you had my ring on your finger, my name following yours…." I shook my head. "Might as well just put out a blinking neon sign advertising the best way to hurt me."

A small shudder moved through my muscles. I never wanted to return to the dark parts of my life before Stephanie walked in, bringing her eternal sunshine. If anyone took her away, it would kill the man I'd become, leaving a vengeful shell in my place. And my soul surely doomed.

She pushed herself into a sitting position, then drew her knees to her chest. Her form suddenly small and childlike. "If tomorrow all your enemies vanished, you'd marry me?"

"Well that would depend, wouldn't it?" Her narrowed eyes told me she didn't make the leap of logic with me. "On if you said yes."

"Gee, nice to see you giving me some input," she growled, rolling her eyes then wincing. She sighed deeply and rested her head on her knees before fixing me with tired eyes. "You're not an easy man to be in love with, you know. Your intentions are about as clear as mud. You pull me close physically, then push me in the opposite direction emotionally. So really, what I think you ought to do is man up."

"Excuse me?" Her words shattered my blank face as my eyebrows shot upward. If one of my men had just said that to me, I'd be calling him to the mats to teach him a painful lesson in respect.

"Someone might try to hurt me, so what?" She motioned to her eyes and set her jaw. "News flash, I manage to scrounge up plenty of dangerous crazies all by myself, and you seem to be the only person in my life okay with that. So why are you so afraid of your enemies? Isn't that kind of like letting them win without even making them fire a shot? You live in fear of what might happen, so you don't really live at all." Her face suddenly softened, "I'm tired of this dance, Ranger. You need to choose. If you are going to cave to the fear, then love me enough to let me go. Cut all ties." She paused, biting down on her lip for just a second as she dropped her legs back onto the bed. Her next words rang breathily as her chest heaved. "Otherwise, grow a pair and take what you want."

The low growl that rose from my throat had nothing to do with anger. Blood thrummed in my ears then headed south. Within a few seconds, I was hard again, aching for her once more. I clenched my fists, digging my fingernails into my palms painfully to distract from the urge, forcing my breaths in and out at an even pace. This was not the time to be thinking with the head between my legs.

"You've knocked me off track." Reaching for the bedside table, I grabbed the bottle of eyedrops and shook it at her.

"Fine. But don't think it's going to save you from providing an answer."

She reclined against her pillow, grabbing handfuls of her bedsheets as I applied the medication. Neither one of us said anything. My mind was too preoccupied with the ultimatum she'd just tossed at my feet. Grabbing two fresh squares of gauze, I moved to place them over her eyes, but she caught my hand in hers.

"I know you don't like the darkness, but it's necessary for right now."

She shook her head. "I know that." Her other hand reached up to caress my cheek gently. "I just want one last look at you in case you take the cut all ties option."

How could she honestly think I'd leave her helpless and blind?

"Babe, I have no plans to run out on you in the middle of the night. I'm here for the next few days regardless. And you already agreed to dinner at my mother's house on Friday."

She sighed. "I guess it would be rude to back out of that."

"And I need some time to think before I can give you an answer."

"Really?" Her frown spoke volumes. Considering the love we'd just made, I suppose her disappointment was justified.

"I take your safety very seriously. I need time to contemplate the two options you've laid on the table. Unless, of course, you wish to redefine your terms."

The wheels turned behind her eyes, lines appearing on her face as she thought about it for a few seconds before shaking her head. "I think this has been a long time coming. The status quo just doesn't work for me anymore. My heart can't take it."

Fair enough. Most women would have put their foot down long ago. "By Saturday, your eyes should be healed. And you'll have an answer from me."

She nodded once in agreement, then dropped her hand so I could finish covering her eyes. With the patches back in place, she sat up slowly. "Can we watch a movie?"

"Well, I can. You're going to have a rough go of that, and I'm not narrating the entire thing."

She punched my shoulder lightly. "Ghostbusters. I can listen and imagine all the scenes in my head."

Her go to movie when she was feeling stressed or down. I hated to consider that her desire to watch it had to do with me. "Sure, Babe."

I got her settled into the couch, popped in the DVD, and put a handful of lightly salted pretzels into a bowl for her to snack on. When I sat next to her, she leaned into me and I wrapped my arm around her to keep her close, unwilling to lose what may be an endangered opportunity.

The dribble on the television couldn't hold my attention. Not with Steph's ultimatum hanging over my head like a guillotine. Instead, I wrestled with my conflicting thoughts until a loud snore pulled me out of my dark reverie. Smiling for the first time since she laid this decision at my feet, I more than gladly clicked off the movie, plunging the room into blackness. Then I scooped her up and tucked her into bed. Shedding my clothes onto the carpet, I silently climbed into the other side. Without waking, Steph rolled over, seeking me subconsciously. Enveloping her in my arms, I buried my face in her wild hair, inhaling deeply. Memorizing the scent. Committing the way her body molded itself against mine to memory.

God, I'd miss this when it was gone. But at least she would be safe. Alive.


	4. Darkest Before Dawn

Chapter 4

Darkest Before Dawn

**Steph's POV:**

Reality brightened my mind slowly, tugging me gently out of restless dreams. In sleep, my vision worked well. Too well. I'd suffered through dream after dream where I watched Ranger walk out of my life forever.

What had possessed me to finally demand him to clarify our relationship? Sure, my eyes didn't work right now. But apparently my brain didn't either. Still, even though the thought of him cutting all ties made me ill, there was a certain comfort that came in knowing that, by Saturday, I would have a definitive answer. No more muddy water. One way or the other.

It really had been a long time coming.

I reached for Ranger, expecting to encounter his warm body, but my hands patted only cold sheets. A stab of fear raced through me. What if he changed his mind and left during the night? I bolted upright in bed, blindly groping at my nightstand in search of my cell phone. My fingers collided with something and it hit the floor with a loud thud. A second later, ear piercing static filled the room.

Damn radio alarm clock. Vaulting out of bed, I dropped to my knees, running my hands across the carpet in search of the contraption.

The noise suddenly ceased as something clunked heavily back onto the nightstand. "Babe." Ranger's voice filled with amusement.

"You're still here!"

"I told you I would be."

I hung my head. "I know, but when I woke up and found the bed empty…"

A set of strong hands lifted me to my feet. "I left only for a short jog, then I showered and answered some e-mails before checking in with Tank. I was trying not to disturb you."

"What time is it?"

"A little after eight-thirty."

He'd probably been up for hours, knowing him. "Can you just help me get dressed and put my drops in? Then you can go back to getting work done."

"I told you, I cleared my schedule. Tank is holding down the fort. Checking my e-mails while you were sleeping simply keeps me from going back to an unmanageable inbox. The only work I plan to do for the rest of the day involves teaching you more about business."

We fell into an easy routine for the next two days. Ranger followed a strict schedule for my eyedrops, but otherwise we filled the time with discussion about my potential business. He continued to read to me, finishing the "Dummies" book just after lunch on Tuesday. By Wednesday night, we were three-quarters through The $100 Startup.

My favorite part of the day soon became my nightly bubble bath. Soaking in the hot water, inhaling the scent of lavender as Ranger's smooth voice filled the small space.

Ranger made no mention of the ultimatum I'd given him, but I felt him distancing himself. His touches became more casual and while he held me at night, he made no attempt at intimacy. We were slipping apart, and I knew in my heart he'd already made his choice.

I tried to tell myself I could live without him. That it would simplify my life. It didn't mean I planned to get back with Morelli, but at least I would know once and for all that Ranger would never be a viable option. My rationality did nothing to ease the black hole slowly consuming my heart.

Even the fact it was a day closer to Saturday couldn't mute my excitement when I woke Thursday morning, knowing I could finally leave the patches off.

"You're still blurry around the edges," I told Ranger as I blinked against the light from my bedroom window, pouting lightly. Tilting my head back, he dripped the antibiotics into both eyes. It didn't sting the way it had those first few days, thankfully.

"I'm going to take a shower," I declared, bouncing off the bed. I nearly screamed when I saw my reflection in the bathroom mirror. "How come you didn't tell me my hair looked like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket?" I shouted into the hallway.

Ranger came to the doorway and grinned at me. "It's not like you could do anything about it. Figured you were happier not knowing."

I suppose there was some affection to his sentiment.

After my shower, and a good hour spent on my hair, I happily made my own breakfast. And by made, I mean put half a bagel in the toaster and smeared on my own cream cheese. I'll never underestimate the gift of sight again.

Thursday and Friday were spent focusing on my business plan. Might as well pick Ranger's brain while I had the ability.

It went without saying I'd miss the phenomenal sex. He'd once promised to ruin me for all other men and, whether it was by accident or design, he'd succeeded. But I'd realized, perhaps too late, how much I'd miss his companionship too. There was an excitement in his voice when we discussed business that I hadn't heard from him before. And it made me realize I'd only ever scratched the surface of his passions.

I'd never get the chance to dig deeper. Not unless he changed his mind and made me his.

By Friday afternoon, his body language left no doubt. As I dressed for dinner at his mother's house, I couldn't help but see the irony. He'd never let me this far into his world before, and tonight I'd get a tiny glimpse just before he cut ties forever.

"Is this okay?" I asked tentatively, stepping out of the bedroom in a spaghetti-strapped blue and white floral sundress, strappy brown sandals with a three-inch wood block heel, and a short-sleeved white cardigan covering my shoulders.

"Pretty." His eyes swept across me, little creases pulling at the edges of his lips. Sorrow, I realized a second later.

"Ranger, we don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can stay. Tell your sister my eyes were still bothering me, and I didn't feel up to going."

"My sister would likely turn up at your doorstep if I tried that." A hint of a smile crossed his face.

"How do you plan to introduce me to your family?" I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. I intended to play the "we're just friends" card unless otherwise directed.

"I was planning on 'Stephanie.'"

I crossed my arms. "You know what I mean."

"I haven't decided yet."

"Liar."

"Let's just enjoy the night, Babe."

He handed me a pair of dark sunglasses before exiting my apartment. I grabbed my purse off the back of a dining room chair and followed him, donning the glasses to protect my still sensitive eyes from the overcast sky. Everything had a small aura around it, but otherwise my vision seemed ninety-percent back to normal.

"Didn't you bring me home in the Cayenne?" I asked as I spotted the Turbo in my lot. The two vehicles drove differently enough, even blind I could tell them apart.

"Tank switched them out for me," he explained as he angled behind the wheel.

Dropping into the passenger seat, my fingers slid across the smooth leather, acutely aware this may be my last night to enjoy this car. Reliving the memories of the time I'd jumped Ranger in the driver's seat, proving that is was very possible, if slightly uncomfortable, to do it in a Turbo. Normally, the recollection made me horny as hell. Tonight, it just made my stomach ache.

We drove toward Newark in silence, an awkwardness laying over us that had never been there before.

To distract myself, I poked absentmindedly through my purse and found my cell phone. It had been rather quiet the past week, which I only now realized was because it was turned off. Funny. I didn't recall doing that Monday morning before heading out to pick up Parish.

Powering it up, a cacophony of beeps and alerts met me. Missed Calls. New voicemails. Text messages. Jeez. I was apparently a popular person.

With a sigh, I lifted the phone to my ear and started wading through the voicemails. My mother's started off as expected.

"Stephanie, this is your mother." Because I'm likely to forget her voice. "I've gotten calls. Why do I always have to learn about your incidents from others? Betty Carmichael's daughter works as a manager at the Stop N Shop and never went blind. I heard they are opening a new store over on Broad Street. I'm sure she could get you an interview. Call me."

Her next one was even shorter. "Stephanie. I endured fourteen hours of labor to give birth to you. What did I do to deserve this? And did you really leave the ER with that man? Call me."

Morelli's voice entered my ear next. "Steph, are you okay? I heard you landed in the St. Francis ER. People are saying you went blind, but I'm really hoping that's just Burg gossip. Please call me."

My mother's final message made my jaw hit the floor. "Stephanie, I'm glad you weren't seriously hurt. I hope you know that. Will you feel up to dinner on Saturday? If you can't drive yet, I'll send your father over to get you."

I glanced sideways at Ranger, dying to know what he'd said to her the day I'd been injured. I'd noted she hadn't said anything about him being invited to dinner.

Before I could inquire, a second voicemail from Morelli stole my attention. And made my teeth grind. "You haven't called me, though I've got it on good authority you're not permanently blind. Now I hear you called Ranger to take you home? You could have called me, Cupcake. I hope you know that." His voice rings with disappointment.

Dammit. That man was as good at laying on the guilt as my mother. I tapped the icon to call him back.

"Steph?" he asked hesitantly.

"Expecting someone else?"

"Considering Ranger's car hasn't moved from your lot for the past five days, yeah." He spit the words with more venom than a rattle snake.

I rolled my eyes. At least it no longer hurt to do so. "I couldn't see. He was taking care of me."

"I bet he took care of you real good."

I chose to ignore the innuendo in Morelli's tone. "So, if I had called you, you would have volunteered to take a week off to stay with me?"

"I have to work for a living, Cupcake, unlike some people. I would have come got you, made sure you were settled at your apartment with everything in easy reach, and then checked in on you when I could. It's not like I can stop murders from happening. Besides, your mother would have come over to take care of you if I couldn't."

"Gee, Joe. With an offer like that, how could I refuse?" Sarcasm dripped from my words.

It finally dawned on me that this seemed normal to Morelli. If he couldn't take time off to help me heal from this injury, would anything change if we got married and I bore him children? Would he show up in time to witness the birth, cart us home, then leave me to fend for myself with a newborn? Though, it's not really his fault. It's just what's done in the Burg.

"We broke up, remember? So I don't think I broke any social etiquette by not calling my ex-boyfriend to pick me up from the ER."

I could practically hear him squeezing the bridge of his nose over the phone. "We didn't break up. We had a fight."

"A fight where I stormed out shouting, 'It's over.' Not sure how much more broken up you can get."

"Do you know how many times you've stormed out shouting that it's over? I lost track at about twenty." His voice softened after a sigh. "So, are your eyes better? I could swing by tonight with a pie from Pino's and a six pack. Assuming you've kicked out your seeing eye dog."

This was always how things moved from off-again to on-again with Morelli. Pizza, beer, and him talking his way between my legs. Well, not this time.

"I've got plans tonight."

"Tomorrow, then?"

"Dinner at my mom's."

"Great, what time should I be there?"

I growled into the receiver. "No time." Chances were good I wouldn't be going either. Especially not if Ranger walked out of my life forever tomorrow. I'd be spending the night with two other men: Ben and Jerry.

"Come on, Cupcake. Bob misses you. So do the boys."

Yep. All he really wanted to come over for tonight was sex. Knew it.

"Well, they'll all have to learn to make do. I'm going to be busy for a while. I'm starting my own business tracking skips."

A bark-like laugh came through the line. "Cupcake, you can barely handle your own skips. What makes you think other bounty hunters will pay you to screw up their cases too?"

In my periphery, I was aware that Ranger's arms had tensed on the wheel, his eyes fliting away from the road to land on me every few seconds.

"Ranger's been helping me work on a business plan the last few days. I think I can do this. I'm good at skip tracing. It's the takedowns I have a few problems with."

"A few? Cupcake, if you don't want to be a bounty hunter anymore, there are plenty of regular, normal, safe jobs out there. Why go through all the trouble and waste all the money to start something that's just going to fail?"

Ranger's right hand moved off the wheel and crossed the console, finding my left. He entwined our fingers and squeezed reassuringly. He didn't need to hear Morelli's side of the conversation to know he was poking holes in my self-confidence like a kid throwing darts at a wall of balloons.

"You know what?" I spit into the phone. "You're right. Except, it's not about my business. Why waste all the time and energy on us when we know it's just going to fail? We're on different pages, Joe, and no matter what, I don't think we can ever get back to the same one." My voice softened. "Find someone whose dreams mesh with yours, Joe. And be happy."

I ended the call before he could say a word, then immediately powered the phone off.

"You can do this, Babe. Don't let anyone make you doubt it."

"I know that." I returned the squeeze he'd given my hand. "It'll be harder, though, without you."

"Steph…"

"It's okay, Ranger," I whispered, words catching on the sudden lump in my throat. "I gave you a choice and I respect your decision. Maybe it's time I truly did something for myself, anyway."

We finished the drive in more amicable silence, the air clearer between us and our fingers still laced together. The streets of Newark passed my window as I looked out, eager to finally see the place Ranger had grown up. The Turbo rolled to a stop at the curb in front of a well-kept, gray sided, two-story home. The driveway leading to the single car attached garage was packed with vehicles. A tidy front lawn with blooming flower beds meandering along the front of the house greeted visitors.

My stomach twisted a little as I stepped out. Ranger and I walked up the walk side by side, no longer holding hands. No reason to fan the flames of hope to his family, when we both knew tonight would be our last together.

The door flew open before we reached the first step onto the porch. A woman who could only be Ranger's mother filled the doorway, wiping her hands on an apron. Her brown hair had begun to silver, but it simply added a stately appearance to her face, crinkled with laugh lines. She'd given her eyes to her son, but unlike Ranger's, which were so often dark and filled with mystery, hers shone with delight and joviality.

She reached out her arms and Ranger stepped into them, embracing her and placing a kiss on each of her cheeks as he greeted her warmly in Spanish. Then she turned to me, and I found myself pulled into the same welcome.

"Stephanie! It's so wonderful to finally meet you. Please, come in."

Ranger's mother stepped aside, and Ranger motioned for me to enter in front of him.

"Thank you, Mrs. Manoso." I looked around the foyer, feeling instantly at ease. Like my parents' house, this was a well lived in home. Furniture cluttered it, with framed photos covering nearly every wall I glanced at. Breathing in, the place smelled like home cooking and love.

She waved off my formality. "Please, call me Renata. Or Mama. I wouldn't mind at all."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ranger shake his head slightly. A lack of subtlety must be a trait of all mothers.

"You really came!" Turning at the voice, I spotted a strikingly pretty, young brunette stepping into the entrance way, her hands resting lightly on her protruding baby bump. A breezy, cream colored maternity dress swirled around her legs, little crystals shimmering along the scooped neckline. The color complimented her glowing mocha latte skin.

"I gave you my word, Becca," Ranger commented as he stepped forward to greet his sister. "You look well," he added after he'd kissed both her cheeks, soft affection in his voice.

She leaned around his shoulder and her eyes fell on me, a grin spreading across her face. "And this must be the mysterious Stephanie! I was beginning to think my brother had invented you, so we'd stop asking about his love life."

"Becca…" Ranger warned, his voice growing stern. If the tone had been directed at me, I might be tempted to move to a new zip code.

His sister ignored him and hugged me. "You must be a saint to put up with him," she stage whispered. "It's lovely to finally meet you."

"You too. Please, call me Steph."

Becca turned back to Ranger. "Well, you held up your end of the bargain, so I suppose I ought to hold up mine. Just let me grab David." She retreated down a long hallway into the kitchen, and I caught the squeak of a screen door opening before a shout. "David, Carlos is here."

Several loud squeals followed Becca's proclamation and, suddenly, the thundering footfalls of a herd of stampeding elephants echoed through the house. A gang of small children rounded the corner, shrieking, "Uncle Carlos!" loudly over one another. As a group, they collided with Ranger. Swinging from his arms, hugging his legs, racing around his feet in circles. Not the least bit daunted by the ex-special-forces soldier who could make grown men wet their pants.

"Enough," Renata declared forcefully. "We'll be outside in a moment. Shoo!" She waved her arms and the mass of giggling limbs detached themselves from Ranger and hurdled back the way they'd come.

When I looked at Ranger's face, a broad, genuine smile painted it. I'd asked him once before if babies made him nervous. He'd explained that he had a large family, so was used to children. But this was more than just 'used to.' It was a facet of his personality he'd never allowed me to glimpse before. And likely one I would never see again.

A second later, a tall, blonde haired man stepped behind Becca, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her close. He and Ranger exchanged friendly nods.

"David, this is Steph, Carlos'—"

"Friend," Ranger inserted quickly, raising his eyebrows in warning at his sister.

Becca sighed loudly, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Carlos' friend. Steph, this is my husband, David."

"Nice to meet you."

We shook briefly before Renata ushered us toward the cozy living room through the doorway to our right. I sank into the far cushion on a comfy floral sofa, with Ranger sitting stiffly just to my left. A good foot separated our bodies. Becca and David snuggled together on the matching loveseat across the room, fingers entwined. Renata stood in the space between her son and daughter, beaming.

"I'm guessing you're wondering why I made such a big deal out of you missing the gender reveal," said Becca.

Ranger shrugged, half a smile on his lips. "I figured you were just being your usual annoying self."

A pretend pout puckered Becca's lips as David laughed lightly. Clearly, it was a running joke between them.

"Well, we're having a boy!" Pure, unadulterated joy radiated from Becca's features.

Beside me, Ranger's face morphed into his rare 200 watt smile. "Congratulations!"

Becca glanced briefly at her husband, then took a deep breath. "There's more. We plan to name him Carlos. And we'd like you to be his Godfather."

Ranger's smile disappeared in a flash, his blank face slamming into place. "I'm honored by the offer, Becca. But I don't think that will be possible."

"What?" Becca and Renata echoed simultaneously.

"Carlos, your sister did not come by this decision lightly. For heaven's sake, what could make it not possible?" demanded Renata.

"I feel that a Godfather should be active in his godson's life, and unfortunately, that's just not possible for me."

Becca shook her head, blinking away tears. "I don't understand. You're out of the service now. You've been visiting more often than ever before. You don't have to be at dinner every night."

Suddenly, I wanted to be anywhere but in the Manoso's living room. This was a conversation I should not be privy to.

"Becca, I'm sorry," Ranger began.

"No," his sister shouted. "Apology not accepted. Give me a good reason, and not just some vague excuse."

Ranger tensed. His eyes swiveled to mine for just a moment. "I'm moving to Miami. I've decided that I can run Rangeman better from that office than Trenton."

His mother staggered, as if she'd been pushed. Her hand flew to her chest. "What? When?"

"By the end of the month, if my plans come together."

"And this is the first you think to mention it to your family?" Becca shouted again.

"I planned to tell you all tomorrow," Ranger offered softly, turning his palms upward. "I didn't want to taint your happy announcement, Becca, with sad news."

I struggled to draw a breath into my lungs. He was leaving Trenton. When I'd told him he either needed to cut all ties or take what he wanted, I never dreamed he'd sever all his ties, not just mine. Glancing at the shocked faces of his family, a knot tightened inside my stomach. I recalled how his nieces and nephews ran so gleefully to him, and the enthusiastic way he'd welcomed their attention. The offer to be Godfather to his new nephew. He'd give all that up because I'd made him to choose.

My head dropped heavily into my hands, blood rushing loudly in my ears.

"Babe?" Ranger's hand fell lightly on my back, his voice concerned.

My heart might explode. I couldn't let him do this. The guilt would kill me. "I take it all back," I whispered in my hands, the words muffled beyond recognition.

"Babe?"

Lifting my chin, I met his eyes and held them. "I take it back. The status quo remains, and I'm fine with that."

"No, you're not," he returned gently.

"Not if it means you abandon them." I motioned to the three people staring at us with mouths agape.

"Steph, can we talk about his later?"

We were airing our dirty laundry in front of his mother, and it brought a slight flush to my cheeks. But I couldn't let him walk out of this house with the intention of moving to Miami.

I shook my head. "I won't let you do this."

"Babe, you asked me to make a decision, and I did. It's one I should have made a long time ago, but I was too selfish, even after Scrog made it clear I'd put you in danger."

Without thinking, I formed and fist and punched him as hard as I could in the shoulder. I bit back a scream as my knuckles connected with solid muscle, stamping my feet as I tried to shake the pain out of my hand. "If you move to Miami, I swear to god I will do every reckless thing I can think of. Chase down rapists, murderers…"

His only response was a tightening of his lips, blank face firmly in place.

"Enough!" We both jumped at Renata's order. She looked from me to Ranger, her hands planted squarely on her hips and a no-nonsense scowl on her face. "Stephanie, if you'd please give me a moment with my foolish son."

She used her mom voice. The one that, no matter your age, you couldn't help but obey unquestioningly. And she wasn't even my mother! She shot a look at Becca and David and they stood simultaneously. I followed them from the room, looking back just in time to see Renata give Ranger a sharp smack to the back of his head.

"Eso fue de tu padre."


	5. Blind Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another smut warning for this chapter. You have been warned.

Chapter 5

Blind Trust

**Ranger's POV:**

Watching Steph's retreating form, I paid no mind to my mother approaching me. Until she smacked the back of my head, leaving me with a stinging brain duster. My neck snapped in her direction, eyes wide. She'd never struck me in her life. Corporeal punishment, the few times I'd transgressed seriously enough to earn in, had always fallen to my father.

"That was from your father," she ground out in Spanish. Then she smacked me again. "And that's from me. Have you lost your senses?"

I rubbed my temples, reining in my temper. It had been a very long time since I'd been scolded by anyone, much less by my mother.

"Mama, you don't understand…" I began to tell her in Spanish, but she cut me off.

"I think I understand plenty, Carlos. That beautiful young woman got sick of you toying with her emotions and asked you to offer her something more. And you're running away like a coward."

That stung worse than her slaps. I gritted my teeth and took three deep breaths before I answered. "I'm doing this for her protection. There are people who will try to hurt her, so they can hurt me."

Even as the words left my mouth, I knew there was no way to truly make my mother understand. Her life with my father had been idyllic. Always expected to grow old and gray together, no one threatening their happiness. This was beyond her comprehension.

"So your response is to make both of you miserable for the rest of your lives? To abandon the family you've only just reconnected with?" She took a deep breath, smoothing the wrinkles in her apron as her voice softened. "The government took you away from us once, changed you. You left for basic training as Carlos and the next time I saw you, you were this Ranger." She waved at my black clothes, frowning. "Cold. Distant. I thought I'd lost you for good, even after you got out. You never smiled. You never laughed. And then one day, I caught you quietly smiling into your plate at dinner. Do you remember that day?"

"How could I not? You spent the rest of the night interrogating me until I told you what had amused me." It had been Stephanie, of course. The day after she'd called me, naked, to beg me to come un-handcuff her from her shower curtain.

My mother nodded. "Yes. That was the first time you mentioned Stephanie. You told me you were mentoring her, but I sensed something else. She changed you. I saw the slow transformation over the years. Brought back the son I'd thought I'd lost for good. And this is how you repay her?"

"If anything happened to her because of me…"

"You would have wasted the time you'd been given with her," my mother finished with a sigh.

Silence hung between us for several minutes, an impasse the width of the Grand Canyon. Our dueling egos prevented either one of us from backing down first.

"I want to show you something I've never shared with anyone besides your father."

She moved to the bookshelf leaning against the far wall, lined with framed photos and leather-bound tomes, many of them in Spanish. Rising on her tip toes, she pulled down a black and white picture from the top shelf. It was one I knew by heart, having studied it often in my youth. One of the few photos to have escaped Cuba when my grandparents fled with their young family. In it, my teenaged mother posed in her Sunday best in a flowering garden. Although she smiled, it didn't reach her eyes. I had always sensed profound sadness in her face.

Carefully, she pulled the back off the silver frame. But instead of pulling out the photo pressed against the glass, she plucked out a much smaller picture hidden behind the first one. It vibrated as she handed it to me, her hand shaking.

I glanced down at it, my brows knitted. I recognized my teenaged mother immediately, but the man beside her…

"This isn't Papa," I stated, squinting at the unfamiliar face. He was also young, but the way he had his arm around my mother's waist…the way she looked up at him adoringly… They were certainly not relatives. And clearly more than friends.

"No," she agreed, her eyes distant. "His name was Riel Fernandez. It was 1961. I was sixteen when we happened to meet, and from the moment I looked into his eyes, I was in love."

I shifted on the couch, not ready to hear about my mother's relationship with a man who wasn't my father.

"His family supported Castro and his revolution. And my family, well, you know that your grandparents did not, but stayed in hopes on enacting peaceful political change. Our love most certainly would have been forbidden, so we both hid it. Met in secret, stole what moments we could together. We both knew the dangers, especially for him. Castro had begun to crack down on political dissidents. You were lucky if you were just arrested. There were public hangings practically every day in the street. If it were discovered that Riel and I were lovers…"

I choked. That was information I most certainly could have died happily not ever knowing. "Mother, is there a point to this? Other than to make me as uncomfortable as possible?"

"The point, my dear son, is that even though our love put us in danger, we still loved. I tried to push him away, once. Told him it was for the best. Thought I could never live with myself if anything happened to him." She nodded toward the larger black and white photo in the frame. "Only thing it accomplished was to make us both miserable for a month, before we couldn't stand being apart any longer. After that, we didn't let our fear control us, even though we knew each time we met it might be our last. And one time, it was." She offered me a heartbreaking smile.

"He died?" I asked, surprised by the hoarseness of my own voice. My mind raced over the information she'd just shared.

"No. Your grandmother woke me very early one morning, before the sun had risen, and told me to pack a bag as quickly as possible. The entire family squashed into a car and we were driven to the beach, where a boat bobbed in the shallows, waiting to ferry us to Key West. To political asylum in the United States. I never got to say goodbye to Riel."

She took the photo back from me, her fingers dusting across the fading image. "I count my blessings every day that God graced me with the chance to love again, with your father. But I would never give back those stolen moments I spent with Riel. I live with no regrets. And I don't want you to live with any, either." She cupped the side of my face softly, before kissing my forehead.

I stood corrected. My mother grasped my dilemma in a way few others could. I'd always admired her emotional strength. Only now did I realize she also possessed far more courage than I ever had.

She hid the photograph of her and Riel in the frame again, and I wondered how often she took it out when no one was watching. Placing the frame back on the shelf, just as she'd found it, she shot me a hard look over her shoulder. "Should I send Stephanie back in?"

I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. "I'm terrified I won't be able to protect her, Mama."

She sank down beside me and pulled me into a sideways hug. Suddenly, I felt like a small boy again. Crying on her shoulder because the other kids had called me names and made fun of my long hair. She'd fortified me back then, planting the seeds of a hardiness that had carried me out of my youth. It reminded me that there were other kinds of strength than just the kind wielded by muscles.

"There is a saying…" she began softly.

"It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all?" It fit the theme of her lecture.

She smiled, patting the side of my face. "That is a good one too. But I was thinking: Faith is blind trust. You must have faith that Stephanie was put into your life for a reason. And trust that God knows what He's doing."

That was hard to ask of me. I'd seen the horrors of battlefields. Watched good men die, while evil ones lived. There were times I'd questioned the reality of God, or at the very least, how much He really cared about the lives of men. Then I'd witness something miraculous. A bullet missing a vital artery by millimeters. A man walking out of a bomb blast, bodies all around him, with nary a scratch. And it was hard not to imagine a mystical force stepping in at the last second.

And then there were phenomena in the world I just couldn't explain. Things I'd seen and then pushed into dark recesses of my mind, because they conflicted too deeply with what I thought I knew of reality. My brief stint working with Diesel had taught me not to think on it too much, but the paranormal existed and it had nothing to do with ghosts. If I could accept, mostly, that Unmentionables walked among us, then why did it seem so strange to put some blind trust in God?

Not to mention some not-so-blind trust in my men.

It would be a fine line between protecting her and locking her in a gilded cage. And Steph would not tolerate that. Would she be willing to make some concessions? I'd need to meet her half way, of that I was certain.

Blinding dread tried to surface again, clouding my thoughts. My selfishness might get Steph killed. Extinguish her light from the world. I pushed it away. If my mother, at sixteen, could conquer the panic, then so could I.

I would protect her as Ranger but love her as Carlos.

"Would you find Steph and tell her I'd like to speak with her?"

A smile lit up my mother's face. "And Becca after that?"

I nodded. I had a fence to repair with my sister, too. Hopefully, she hadn't changed her mind about me being the Godfather to my namesake.

"Of course. I'll go find her." She pulled me into another tight hug. "I'm busy planning a baby shower, and then a baptism. But after, my schedule should be clear for wedding planning."

I laughed, hands pressed to my sides. Why were Manoso women so incorrigible? "Cart before the horse, Mama. Give Stephanie and I time to see how we work together as a couple. Please." The transition might be rough. We may not make it, as much as I loved her.

With one last tender pat on my cheek, my mother left the room. I rose, staring out the front window, wondering how I had been completely blindsided by the events of this past week. A few minutes later, Stephanie shyly poked her head around the doorframe.

* * *

**Steph's POV:**

I followed Becca and David into the kitchen, mind still whirling at seeing Renata smack Ranger.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "This is all my fault."

Becca patted my shoulder. "My brother is an idiot. Always has been. This is not your fault."

I sighed, opening my mouth and then closing it, unsure how to explain why it most certainly was. David pulled open the fridge door and dug around, hauling out two bottles of Yuengling.

"You look like you can use one of these." He held out one of the bottles and I took it automatically. "I certainly do." He popped the cap off his and took a long swig.

A few seconds later, I copied him. We all took seats around the round kitchen table, its wood top marred and stained from years of use. My mother would have died before her table ever looked like this. I found comfort in it, however. The fact that imperfection was accepted in this house. Life sometimes made things a little rough around the edges. That didn't mean you threw them out.

Through the gauzy, white lace curtains shielding the kitchen window, I spotted children playing in the small, fenced backyard. Adults lounged around a patio table as a man flipped burgers and hotdogs on a silver grill, talking animatedly with the spatula in his hand. I knew he must be Ranger's brother from just his profile, though his face was fuller, body much softer. A hint of a beer gut on his frame.

I already felt more comfortable here than I did in the home I grew up in. I blinked back a few tears. Too bad this was the only visit I'd ever get. Lifting the bottle to my lips again, I chugged.

The Yuengling was gone when Renata appeared in the kitchen, wearing a familiar blank face. Something else Ranger had evidently inherited. "Stephanie, Carlos would like to see you."

The blood left my face as I stood, but my feet refused to move. She gave me an encouraging smile that set my heart racing. Could she really have done the impossible and made him reconsider leaving Trenton? The status quo had never looked so appealing. Finally, my legs moved me forward.

I peeked around the doorframe leading to the living room hesitantly. Ranger stood facing the window pensively. He turned, though, sensing my presence.

"I'm sorry I got you lectured," I apologized, voice wavering. "You just caught me by surprise with the Miami thing."

He didn't say anything. Instead, he held out an open hand. An invitation. I crossed the room silently and put my hand in his. Instantly, he pulled me close, chest to chest.

"Babe." He murmured the word into my hair. "Best lecture I ever got in my life."

I pushed against him softly, distancing us enough so that I could meet his eyes. "So, you're not leaving Trenton? You'll be Godfather to your nephew?"

"If Becca hasn't changed her mind. Would serve me right if she did."

"She's hurt," I told him. It had been written all over her face in the kitchen. "But she's not angry."

"What about you? You have every right to be angry."

"I meant what I said earlier. I take it back. I can live with the status quo. I can't live with you cutting yourself off from your family."

We stood together silently for several minutes. This wasn't so bad. Muddy waters were better than no waters, right?

"I love you," he whispered. I tensed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The qualifier that always followed those words. "For a long time, I viewed that as a weakness. A chink in my armor." He took a deep breath. "When we met, I was broken. A man who had done unspeakable things, with no hope of redemption. And without me even knowing, you healed me, Steph. As much as I think I can be healed by mortal hands. One day, I'll face my creator and answer for my sins. I don't need to add any more regrets to that litany. And I certainly don't want to count you as one."

"I get it," I mumbled. "You'd regret if anything happened to me because of my association with you."

"Yes," he breathed.

I bit my lip to distract from the sudden burning in my eyes.

"But I'd regret it more if I reached the end of my life and hadn't spent it by your side. How ever long we're given to walk together."

My jaw unhinged. He chuckled and placed a tender kiss on my open mouth.

"How did you word it, Babe? Grow a pair and take what I want?"

A tingle of nervousness shot down my spine. Ranger sensed it, predator that he was. A wolfish smile broke across his features.

"Rest assured, Babe, when I return you home tonight, I have every intention of taking what I want. Over and over again."

A small whimper slipped out as a tsunami of heat barreled through my core, settling between my legs. Half a second later, Ranger's mouth crashed down on mine. His tongue tracing my lips, silently begging for entry. The moment I granted it, he plunged inside, the assault coaxing forth low moans as our bodies melded. His hands were everywhere, slipping under my shirt to caress my back, my stomach, my breasts.

Someone cleared their throat loudly and we sprang apart. "I don't know, this seems like awful indecent behavior for the future Godfather of my son. What sort of Christian role model would you be, Carlos?" Becca's eyes glittered with amusement, her tone light and teasing.

Ranger took my hand firmly in his before turning to face his sister and brother-in-law. "Becca. David. I'd like to sincerely apologize for earlier. I would be honored to be Godfather to your son, if you are willing to forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," Becca replied softly, her hand patting her belly. Then she grinned. "Besides, you know I always get what I want anyway."

Ranger tilted his head back and laughed. Helium seemed to inflate my heart.

"Now come on," Becca added, motioning us out of the room. "There's a party going on in the backyard. And Alex says, and I quote, if Carlos doesn't get his fancy pants ass out here soon, he can cook his own damn burger. But he'll fire up his grill for Steph anytime." She winked at me. "He told me to do that too, so don't shoot the messenger, Carlos."

A dangerous growl rumbled in Ranger's chest as he squeezed my hand. "Come on, Babe. I have a brother who just asked to get his ass kicked."

The party at the Manoso house broke up just before sunset. It was bedtime for many of the children, and the intermittent tears of over-tired tots were outpacing the giggles. Ranger and I finally managed to leave after many hugs. I'd succumbed to the peer pressure and, by the end of the night, began to call Renata, 'Mama.' It felt surprisingly natural.

I also had a mandatory invitation to Becca's baby shower in a month, as well as a lunch date with Celia, Ranger's oldest sister, next week. She'd promised to tell me all the juiciest, most embarrassing stories about him over Korean barbeque.

"You survived meeting the Manoso clan," Ranger teased as we found ourselves alone, bathed in the soft glow of the Turbo's dashboard lights as he drove back to Trenton.

"And none the worse for the wear," I agreed. "You should give out t-shirts."

Ranger's lips tipped upward at that, and he reached over to take my hand. His thumb rubbed small circles on my skin, igniting little tongues of flame that went racing up my arm. My breaths quickened as I recalled his words about taking what he wanted once we got home.

"We have a few things to discuss before we get to that, Babe."

"We do?" I squeaked, trying to figure out how he knew what was running through my head.

"Your safety is still of the utmost concern to me. Perhaps more now than ever. There are some precautions that will need to be put in place before I'm comfortable with the world knowing you're mine."

My heart dropped into my stomach. I'd lived under Ranger's "security precautions" before. I was pretty sure there were prisoners in super max lockups with more freedoms than I had when Ranger decided I was in danger.

"First off, living arrangements. I'd feel far more comfortable if you lived with me at Rangeman. Your building is just too soft a target. And there will be times I need to go away on business, and the only way I'll sleep at night is knowing you're sleeping on seven."

My first instinct was to deny his request. I'd tried cohabitating with Morelli. It worked for a few months, then everything went to shit. But, I reminded myself, Ranger was not Morelli. This was new territory for both of us. "Okay. Rex and I will move into Rangeman. But I'm keeping the lease on my apartment. At least for a little while, until we're sure this works."

I glanced at him out of the sides of my eyes, waiting for him to tell me that's a ridiculous waste of money. "Sounds like a solid plan, Babe."

"It is?" I shook my head. "I mean, of course it is."

A low chuckle echoed through the car. "Second, your safety when you leave Rangeman."

I groaned. This is where it would get contentious. I just knew it. "You're not assigning me a permanent shadow. So don't even think it. I don't need, or want, a body guard. Deal breaker."

"Babe." He shook his head lightly. "Just let me finish, okay. I know you hate it when my men tail you, so we'll try to avoid that unless we get wind of a specific threat against you or me. Agreed?"

"Okay. So no gun-toting shadows. Then what did you have in mind?"

"A gun-toting Babe." He peeked over at me quickly before his eyes swiveled back to the road. "No more gun in the cookie jar. I'll help you get a concealed carry permit, and you'll start carrying your pistol on you whenever you go out. I don't care if it's just to go to your mother's house for dinner."

"Wouldn't you be coming with me to my mother's for dinner and carrying your own gun?"

"I might have to work late those nights," he quipped.

"Oh no! If I'm moving into Rangeman and carrying a gun, you've got to make some concessions too, mister. Relationships are two-way streets. And that means dinner at my parents'. And don't think I won't check with Tank to make sure any work excuses are legitimate. Lucky for you, my mom invited me over tomorrow night, and I happen to know you aren't working."

That earned me a laugh and light squeeze of my hand. "Fine. But the first time your grandmother grabs my junk, all bets are off."

"Understandable. So, is there a third condition?"

"Yes, but I'm not done with the second. Range time, twice a week, with me to make sure your skills are at their peak in case you need to use your gun."

I could live with that. "That sounds reasonable. Third?"

"You can use space on Rangeman's ground floor to open your business."

"Good try, Ranger. Made that directive look an awful lot like a voluntary offer. One I assume I can't refuse."

"Of course you can," he shot back. "But then we're going to renegotiate the second point about body guards."

"I appreciate the offer. I really do. But I want to start this business on my own. I want it to be separate from Rangeman."

"It will be. Lots of businesses offer space for startups, Babe. They're called incubator spaces. Small rent, with all utilities included to keep overhead costs low, which are often what kill new ventures. There are a couple empty offices on the ground floor. We can put your logo on one of the windows."

"And there's the security desk," I deadpanned.

Ranger grinned at me. "I have to pay someone to staff the desk whether or not you're using the space or not, Babe. But it gives me a little more peace of mind."

"And you're actually going to charge me rent? Evict me if I don't pay?"

"Mmmm, as your landlord, we could perhaps come to other arrangements if you find yourself in arears."

"You've got a filthy mind," I replied with a roll of my eyes. "So don't get any ideas about my rear if I get in arears, because I plan to pay my rent on time."

"Does that mean you'll take the space?"

"Yes. At least for now, until I see where this goes."

He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it softly. I took that to mean we'd come to an acceptable accord. I was a bit surprised, then, when Ranger pulled in my lot.

"We're not going back to your place?"

"Our place," Ranger corrected with a smile. "And not tonight. Figured you'd like to pack some things in the morning."

"Could start tonight," I teased.

Ranger leaned across the console, a feral growl rising from his chest as he kissed me roughly. "I think you'll find your time otherwise occupied for the rest of tonight."

I'm not sure how we stumbled up the stairs and into my apartment without earning a public indecency charge. Thankfully, the mostly elderly population of my building called it a night after the 7:30 airing of Wheel of Fortune.

The door no sooner shut behind us before Ranger pushed me against it, both of us panting. I shrugged off the cardigan covering my shoulders as Ranger's hands roamed up the inside of my sun dress, tugging the material over my head. It was the kind of dress with a built-in bra, and Ranger's eyes trailed across my now bare breasts hungrily.

"These are mine now," he breathed huskily, cupping a mound of flesh in each hand.

"Yes, yours," I agreed, moaning as his thumbs played across my aching nipples, teasing them until they were taunt and hard.

His lips found mine, greedy and demanding. My arms circled his neck, holding him against me as his tongue ravished my mouth, spreading fire through my belly. He pulled away, nipping at my upper lip gently before soothing the spot with his tongue.

"This is mine too," he said of my mouth.

I nodded, exhales outpacing my inhales and making speech impossible. He finally released my breasts, tracing two identical paths down each side of my rib cage before circling my belly button. Trailing fire in his wake, he moved leisurely across my abdomen, then over to my hips, fingers brushing the thin lines of my bikini cut panties.

With two sharp movements, he snapped the elastic on either side and the ruined garment fluttered to my feet. With torturous slowness, his fingers walked along my bikini line before combing through my pubic hair. A low, contended noise sounded in his throat, his eyes closing as his fingers slid between my legs.

"That's yours too," I muttered wryly. He flexed his fingers, gliding into my center and chasing all further thoughts of sass from my mind.

His mouth began to move south, kissing down my neck and onto my collar bone. He nipped my skin, raising a mewling yelp before his tongue laved the spot, sucking gently. I tried to protest, knowing he was marking me, but I couldn't find the strength. My legs were wobbling under the effects of his magic fingers, stroking me into a frenzy.

His mouth shifted, finding a nipple to lavish with attention. Dutifully moving on to the other, he left me incapable of producing anything except breathy moans and whimpers. As his journey took him to my abdomen, he dropped to his knees. My hands fisted his hair, trying to hurry him to his final destination.

"Anxious, Babe?" he chuckled into my skin.

I groaned as his probing fingers slid out of me. He took them both into his mouth, eyes closing in pleasure as he sucked them clean. Then he gently lifted one of my legs and placed it over his shoulder, opening my core to him. His hands flexed on my hips, pinning them to the wall.

"It's yours. Take it," I breathed, words staccato, my hands tangled in his hair, trying to push his face down.

No further inducement required, his mouth landed exactly where I needed it, and the world tipped upside down. Nothing but garbled nonsense escaped my lips from that point on, until I screamed his name into the night, head thrown back as I convulsed.

He looked up at me from his knees, breathing nearly as hard as I. Carefully placing my leg back on solid ground, he stood and shed his shirt. His pants slipped off next, leaving him gloriously naked and impressively hard with need.

Without preamble, he grabbed my ass and lifted me onto him, impaling me in one fluid thrust. My legs wrapped around his waist as my back collided with the door, oblivious to any feeling except the fullness of his length buried inside me. I could tell he was teetering on the brink of his control as he thrust, deep and hard, hitting home each time. It was a matter of minutes before my muscles clenched again, fingernails scrambling at his back as I soared. His name a prayer on my lips, I cried to the heavens over and over. I barely heard him invoke my own name in response before he stilled within me.

For several minutes, the only sound in the apartment was our heavy breathing. And the squeak of Rex running on his wheel in the kitchen.

"I love you," I mumbled into Ranger's neck, my boneless body slumped against him.

A contented hum vibrated Ranger's throat. "Say it again, Babe."

"I love you."

He pulled me away from the wall, my legs still wrapped around his waist and carried me into the bedroom. Gently laying me on the bed, he finally removed my shoes, tossing each one over his shoulder with a thump, before crawling up the bed to hover over me.

He sank into me slowly, again and again. He didn't need to tell me he loved me, his body did the talking. We clung to the other, moving in an unspoken synchronization.

Hours later, Ranger gathered me into his arms under the covers, our passion finally sated. Heavy exhaustion overwhelmed me, dragging me toward oblivion. In that dark place, between sleep and awake, I lost track of where my body ended and his began, we fit so uniquely together. Maybe it was a product of my recent injury, but behind my closed eyes I saw, with perfect clarity, the glow of our souls. Two halves, finally made whole. Forever entwined.


	6. Epilogue

Epilogue

**Ranger's POV:**

Colored light, cast by the stained-glass windows of the church, danced across the sleeping infant resting in the crook of my arm. I was baptized here. My brother and sisters as well. And now, my newest nephew, dressed in the same simple white baptismal gown worn by all the Manosos before him.

I'd like to say it was the only time in my life I'd worn a gown. But Celia was a brutal big sister, and I'd been forced into playing dress up more than once. She'd gleefully shown Steph the photographic evidence almost immediately after they'd met.  
We'd see if she still found it so amusing when her three kids all received drum sets for Christmas, courtesy of Uncle Carlos.

The priest, adorned in a deep purple vestment in honor of Advent, cleared his throat, regaining my attention. He addressed my sister and brother-in-law, both standing to my right. "What name have you given your child?"

"Carlos Allen Barrett," they intoned simultaneously.

"What do you ask of God's church for Carlos Allen?"

"Baptism."

My mind wandered, affording the ceremony half my attention. The nave smelled strongly of frankincense, the aroma conjuring calming memories of Sundays long past. Candles flickered along the ornately painted niches bearing statues of The Virgin Mary, Saint Joseph, and directly behind us, John the Baptist. Tiers of potted poinsettias circled the altar and liturgy podium, pops of red and green against the polished oak backdrops.

Among the many eyes focused on our small group circling the stone baptismal font, I felt Steph's acutely. Glancing up, I met her gaze. She sat in the second pew, between Celia and Alex, perfectly at ease with my family. And they with her. Too at ease, perhaps, based on the way she and Celia sometimes giggled when I walked into a room. There had been far too many tales of my childhood misadventures shared over the past six months.

Electric guitars might find their way under Celia's family Christmas tree this year as well.

Steph offered me a dazzling smile across the holy space, one which I returned tenfold. There was very little that could make today's celebration more perfect, surrounded by family and the woman I loved more than anything in the world.

And to think, I'd almost succumbed to the fear and walked away. Now, I was learning to live with it. Taking it one day at a time. And, using a page from my mother's book, treating each moment with Steph like it could be our last. Leave nothing unsaid. Never go to bed angry. Live with no regrets. Make love to her every night.

Sleep deprivation had never before been so welcomed.

We'd had some hiccups, learning to deal with the other's idiosyncrasies in the same shared space, but for the most part we clicked like puzzle pieces. Time felt skewed with Steph as a permanent fixture in my life. Six months didn't seem right. Hadn't it been forever?

It took conscious effort to remind myself we were still new at this. To hold back the urge to drop onto one knee and present her with the ring I'd taken to carrying around in my wallet. Always reminding myself that her first failed marriage had made her gun shy of the institution in general. It was too soon. If I spooked her, she might bolt.

With every passing day, the temptation got harder to fight.

An unhappy mewl pulled my attention downward, as my namesake squirmed. The priest had just anointed him with oil.

Sorry, little man, you're not going to enjoy this next part any better.

After the priest worked through his long list of questions, asking us to renounce sin and profess our faith, he motioned for me to step forward. On my left, David's sister, acting as Godmother, stepped with me.

I adjusted my nephew in my arms, supporting his neck as I moved his head over the bowl of blessed water, reflecting the ornately painted ceiling above. One dark eye cracked open as the child began to wiggle, shooting me such a look of annoyance I nearly laughed aloud. He was Becca's son through and through, no question.

The priest dipped a silver cup into the font. "I baptize you in the name of the Father."

Water drizzled over the lip of the cup and splashed off baby Carlos' bald head. His other eye flew open, arms stiffening as a look of utter shock crossed his tiny features. I bit my lip. My mother would beat me if I lost it in the middle of the actual sacrament.

"And of the Son," the priest recited stoically.

More water. My Godson's face grew splotchy and red. A smile lifted the corners of my lips.

"And of the Holy Spirit."

The last dousing did it. A loud cry split the air, drowning out whatever the priest said next. Becca descended instantly, scooping Carlos from my arms as the infant continued his vocal protest of the cleansing of his original sin. She tried to pop a pacifier into his open mouth, but he spit it immediately onto the floor.

She looked down, and I saw the battle written plainly of her face. How many germs were on a holy carpet? Did she dare pick it up and offer it to her child again?

In the end, she must have decided that her faith in God didn't go that far. She left the pacifier where it lay and instead tried to soothe her son with gentle shushing sounds. He wanted none of it.

Becca and David exchanged red-faced glances as the priest folded his hands in his robe, waiting for the return of silence so he could continue the traditional blessing. He'd be waiting until the second coming, at this rate.

A single chuckle slipped past my lips. Beside me, David's sister froze. Her eyes swiveled sideways, and she giggled, her hand flying to her lips almost immediately as silent laughter shook her shoulders. A few titters rose from the pews before the damn broke and the church filled with laughter.

My Godson stopped his wail mid-stream, eyes widening at the sound echoing off the walls around him. I offered him my pinkie and he grasped it in his surprisingly strong little fist. Bringing my amusement back under control, I leaned down to brush my lips across his forehead.

Don't lose that fighting spirit, little man.

My sister offered me a look of gratitude. That would fade as soon as she realized I had every intention of spoiling this kid rotten, buying him the most irritating toys on the market, and generally turning him into a hellion.

Revenge was sweet.

As the ceremony concluded, the guests filed out of the church quickly, everyone eagerly anticipating the coming feast. My mother had spent the last three days cooking enough food to feed a small third world country.

We'd just reached the church doors, the last to leave, when Steph stopped and smacked her hand off her forehead. "Sorry. I forgot my purse in the pew. Be right back."

I followed slowly as she hustled back down the aisle, deeply ingrained Catholic habit causing her to genuflect before entering the pew. The hem of her skirt pooled out behind her as she bent her knee, bathed in the white beams of sunlight angling through the huge, circular window behind the sanctuary.

For half a second, I had a vision of her in a white gown, train spread out behind her as she knelt before the altar. It stole the air from my lungs.

I reached for my wallet. It might be too soon, but who was I to ignore a sign from God?

* * *

**Steph's POV:**

I snagged the strap of my purse, relieved I'd remembered it before we'd driven away. Recently, my brain felt like it had been fried. Starting a business was even harder than I'd expected. If it weren't for Ranger, I probably would have given up months ago.

It had been a slow, frustrating start. Other bounty hunters were reluctant to use my services. And Vinnie downright refused at first, pissed I'd quit and left him in a lurch. He'd come around since then, but I had a sneaky suspicion a visit from Ranger had a lot to do with that, even if neither of them would fess up.

My real break, however, had come from an unlikely source. A woman had dropped into my office unexpectedly, tearfully explaining that her adult daughter was missing. With no signs of foul play, the police couldn't do anything but file a missing person report. With nowhere else to turn, she offered me $500 to find her daughter.

It had taken a couple days, but I eventually tracked her down, holed up inside a drug den on Stark Street. She was now working her way through rehab.

It was then that I'd realized I'd limited myself by only targeting other bounty hunters, and Bombshell Search Services was born. And while I counted a few bounty hunters among my clients, most of my bread and butter came from regular folks just looking for missing friends or loved ones. I'd grown enough I even had to hire a part-time employee: Lula.

We'd worked together long enough that she knew the ins and outs of searching for someone. And to be perfectly honest, there were some parts of Trenton where people would only talk to Lula.

My hardest, case, however, had come from Ranger. He'd given me just a name, Riel Fernandez, a town in Cuba, and a range of approximate birth years and potential current ages. That was it. And he wouldn't tell me why I was looking for this person.

Dating Batman could be enormously frustrating. Though, the mind-blowingly phenomenal sex made up for that.

Stepping out of the pew, I turned around and nearly collided with Ranger. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close. His lips brushed against mine gently.

"Miss me already?" I teased. "I said I'd be right back."

"You know how much I love you, right?" He mumbled it into my hair, my chest constricting at the words.

Why would he ask me that? Had something happened? Was someone threatening us? Was he planning to leave? But he'd seemed so happy this morning and during the baptism…

He stepped away from me and my knees shook, threatening to drag me to the floor. I reached out, desperate to keep him from running. "Please don't go."

His eyes grew wide. "Go? Babe, I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

Something glinted in his right hand, and only then did I notice the diamond ring clutched between his fingertips. Little rainbows flitted across the back of the pew from the massive central stone, diamond encrusted loops circling out to either side to form an infinity symbol.

My knees failed, and I sank to the floor.

"I'm supposed to be the one kneeling," Ranger mused softly, amusement dancing behind his eyes. He dropped fluidly to one knee, bringing us nose to nose.

"Marry me, Steph."

No fancy words or speeches. He wasn't that type of man. And I didn't need them. The pure hope radiating from his eyes said it all. I did, indeed, know how much he loved me. Because I loved him back at least as much, if not more.

I nodded, the "yes" forming on my tongue never making it past my dry lips.

He somehow managed to wrangle my trembling hand, sliding the ring over my knuckle, where it would stay for eternity. I granted myself a full second to stare at it in wonder before throwing my arms around his neck, our lips finding each other's without thought.

He kept his kisses chaste. He pulled away, chuckling, the third time I tried to force my tongue into his mouth. At least one of us remembered we were kneeling in God's house.

"There will be plenty of time for that later, Babe."

I blushed lightly, chastised. My mother would have been appalled. Of course, she was going to be horrified when we broke the news to her either way. She'd headed straight for the liquor cabinet when Ranger and I showed up for dinner holding hands that Saturday six months ago. Having Batman for a son-in-law never fit into her life plan.

"Omigod, we've got to go to your mother's house. Won't Becca be mad if the news of our engagement outshines Carlos' baptism?"

"In this case, I think she'll be thrilled."

Ranger rose to his feet and offered me a hand, lifting me gently. I leaned into him, both of us enjoying a few more minutes of peace. The rest of the day would be insanity.

As the party wound down, Ranger and I cuddled on the loveseat in the living room enjoying the relative seclusion. His siblings searched the house, rounding up over-sugared children, squeezing them into winter coats, and herding them outside. The initial hullabaloo over our engagement had died off quickly, replaced by a general consensus of "about damn time." And wedding talk. Lots and lots of wedding talk.

The appeal of elopement had deepened by the second.

My head rested on Ranger's shoulder contently. We should probably say our goodbyes to his mother, being the last ones remaining, but I couldn't find the motivation to suggest leaving. Besides, I knew once we went home we'd have to discuss telling my mother about our engagement.

Yep. No hurry to get home at all.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and panic shot through me. Could just thinking about my mother have somehow caused her to call? She couldn't have started receiving phone calls already, could she? Glancing at my shiny new iPhone screen, I breathed a sigh of relief and tapped the Facebook message alert. A second later, my sigh of relief reversed as I sucked it back in.

"I think I found him," I murmured mostly to myself. Blinking a few times and re-reading the message just to be sure I wasn't hallucinating.

"Who?"

I tilted the screen, so Ranger could see. "Riel Fernandez."

"What?" In a very uncharacteristic display of emotion, Ranger ripped the phone out of my hands excitedly. "Where?"

"Houston Texas. Maybe." I chewed my lip and waved toward the message. "Locating someone still in Cuba is damn near impossible. Only five percent of the population even has access to the internet, and the government keeps a pretty tight lock on it. I found a group on Facebook dedicated to Cuban refugees who were looking for lost family members, so I posted the information you gave me there hoping a member of his family might see it. Been chasing a ton of potential leads ever since. 'Fernandez' is the freaking 'Smith' of Cuba, apparently."

Ranger still had his eyes focused on my cell. "So this Mateo Fernandez you messaged, he says he has a grandfather named Riel Fernandez who immigrated in the 90's from San Cristobal?"

"Yeah. But I'll need to dig deeper to confirm it's the right Riel Fernandez. You didn't give me much to go on."

Suddenly, Ranger stood. He handed me back the phone and crossed the room to the bookshelf, removing a framed photo from the top shelf and hurriedly disassembling it, with a harried glance toward the doorway. Then he handed me a small black and white photo a second later.

"Take a picture of that with your phone and send it back to this Mateo. See if he can confirm that his grandfather is the Riel in that photo."

An edge crept into Ranger's tone that caused me to obey immediately. I snapped the photo and then sent it to Mateo. Only then, did I really stop to examine the image more closely.

"Wait. Is that your mother?"

Ranger gently plucked the photo from my fingertips and replaced it in the frame. "Yes."

Before I could demand he elaborate, my phone buzzed again with Mateo's reply. Ranger raised his eyebrows at me expectantly.

"He says his grandfather lives with them, so he's going to show him the photo now. Guess we'll know in a few minutes." I grinned at Ranger, more than a little proud of myself. "You might end this night owing me $500 bucks. My going rate."

Ranger didn't smile at my taunt. Instead, his eyes seemed to look right through me. "Five hundred is nothing compared to what you and I owe Riel, Babe."

Mouth open to demand clarification, my phone buzzed. Mateo had irritatingly bad timing. Looking down, I saw that he was trying to video message me. That could only mean good news, right?

I tapped the button to accept, but the face that filled my phone screen wasn't that of the young man featured in Mateo's profile picture. An old man, with clouded brown eyes and a few wisps of white hair atop his head, blinked back at me for a second.

"De donde sacaste esta foto?" He barked, voice surprisingly strong despite the clear oxygen tubing resting under his nose and snaking around his head. "Quien eres tu?"

I performed a pretty accurate impression of a fish out of water before Ranger grabbed the phone from my hand.

"Mi nombre es Carlos Manoso. La foto es de mi madre, Renata."

"Renata…" The man's voice trailed off. "Ella vive?" He asked softly a moment later.

"Si." Ranger looked over at me. "Find my mother, Babe."

The urgency in his voice tied a knot in my stomach. I scurried from the living room, finding Renata in the kitchen packing up leftovers.

"What can I help you with, hija?" she asked with a smile.

Words failed me as I realized I had no idea what to tell Renata. Or any idea how Riel fit into her life. "Umm, Carlos asked me to…I mean, he has something… someone really… to show you. I think."

Renata's eyes widened, but she followed me out of the kitchen anyway. Ranger motioned to the sofa as we entered the living room.

"Sit, Mama." His voice wavered. Was that nervousness I sensed in his tone?

"Carlos, what is this about?" she demanded, though she sat none-the-less.

"Renata?" Riel's muffled voice came through the speaker of my phone, still clutched in Ranger's fist.

Renata froze, a hand clutched to her chest. I moved toward her, concerned she might be having a heart attack. Just before I reached her, she sucked in a breath.

"Riel?" The name swam with emotion.

Ranger nodded, gently placing my cell phone into his mother's trembling hands. She gasped. A moment later, she and Riel were both speaking. Rapid Spanish filling the air as Renata brushed away tears.

Ranger gently touched my elbow, leading me from the room. "Let's give them a moment."

"Let's," I agreed. "And you can tell me what the hell is going on."

We settled around the kitchen table, and I helped myself to a sugar cookie before fixing an expectant stare on Ranger.

"Riel Fernandez helped convince me to stay."

"But I only just found him!"

Ranger's lips tilted upward. I listened raptly as he explained how his mother had changed his mind six months ago. I'd never demanded the specifics, always assuming she'd used the superpower bestowed upon all women the moment they give birth: guilt.

"Why didn't you tell me all this when you asked me to look for Riel?"

Ranger scooted his chair closer to mine, taking my hand. "Because I didn't want you to feel guilty if you didn't find him. I knew the odds were slim if he didn't leave Cuba, or that he may not even be alive."

I fidgeted with my ring for a few seconds, still adjusting to its weight on my finger. How much different my life might be if Renata had not understood her son enough to share her relationship with Riel. With a sigh, I leaned into Ranger. His arm curled around my shoulder. I sensed his thoughts running along the same line as mine.

"Should we go check on your mom?" I asked a few minutes later. He nodded in response.

Renata was still on the couch, talking animatedly in Spanish. She glanced up as Ranger and I entered.

"Carlos, you can set it up so I can do this again, yes?"

Ranger's eyes shone with soft affection. "Of course, Mama."

"Buenas noches, Riel. Hablaremos de nuevo pronto." She paused, studying the screen for a moment before jabbing at it and then handing me back my phone. Plucking a tissue from the box on the coffee table, she dabbed her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, pulling Ranger and I into a three-way hug, a blanket of love settling over us.

* * *

Three years later…

**Ranger's POV:**

It was 3am before we finally found ourselves alone again.

The last nurse exited with a friendly smile. "Try to get some sleep. Just press the call button if you need anything." She pulled the door shut behind her.

I glanced down at my wife resting in her hospital bed. Dark circles rimmed her eyes, but not even exhaustion could extinguish the excitement dancing behind the blue orbs.

"Proud of you, Babe." My lips brushed across her forehead.

Steph smiled up at me, the light in her eyes sparkling mischievously. "You're not going to hunt down the ultrasound tech who told us we were having a daughter, are you?"

A light laugh escaped. "We have a healthy son. And you're well. That's all that matters."

After months of preparing for a daughter, a shock wave had reverberated around the delivery room when the doctor announced it was a boy. Considering all the other risks involved in childbirth, if that was the worst surprise we'd received, we were blessed.

Steph's eyes left mine, focusing on the tightly swaddled bundle in her arms. Our son slept peacefully, perfect in every way.

"He's got my nose," she said softly, "but the rest of his face is all you." She grinned up at me. "We'll be beating the girls off with a stick when he's a teenager."

"We need to discuss names."

"Yeah. Guess Gabriela Renata isn't going to work now, is it?" She sighed heavily. "We're going to have to repaint the nursery. Ugh, and we brought a dress for a going home outfit. That's not going to work!"

I kissed her again, this time lightly on the lips. "Relax, Steph. None of that really matters. But he does need a name."

Her eyes crinkled in thought. "What about…" she paused hesitantly. "What about Riel Ricardo?"

"Riel Ricardo Manoso. Has a nice ring to it."

"You don't think your mom will mind? What if someone asks how we came up with the name?"

"We'll just say we both liked it." So far, Riel remained a secret just between us and my mother. The decision to tell anyone else would always remain hers, and hers alone. "And I think Mama will approve, considering."

A yawn cracked Steph's jaw.

"I'll hold Riel, Babe. You need to sleep."

Conflict crossed her face, but in the end, she allowed me to lift him from her arms. He nestled into the crook of my left arm, like God had intended him to fit there perfectly.

"Two hands!" she cried, trying to reach out.

I chuckled. "Babe. I'm not going to drop him. There isn't a child in the state who will be more protected than our son."

She huffed but couldn't argue with my logic.

God. I had two of them to protect now. The reality of that was just now settling over me. The now familiar fear tried to rise in my chest, but I pushed it down. I was nearly an expert in that now.

"Sleep, Steph. While you can."

"What about you?"

I shrugged. "I've been specially trained to operate in sleep deprived conditions."

Her laugh warmed the room as she snuggled into her pillow. I reclined the bed to nearly flat and tucked the thin white sheet around her. A few minutes later, she was out, snoring softly, mouth open, a trickle of drool escaping the corner. Sexy as ever. More so now, in a way I couldn't describe as my wife and mother of my child.

Walking away from her bed, I settled into the wooden rocking chair next to the large window overlooking Trenton. The city lights sparkled in the darkness, obscuring the stars. Out of habit, I scanned the nearly empty streets, assessing for threats. Searching for anything out of the ordinary.

All seemed right with the world today.

"Let's let your mother sleep as long as possible, okay?" I told my son in Spanish, a smile spreading across my face. It was impossible to erase.

My son. Mine.

A flash of light pulled my attention back outside as a shooting star streaked across the sky. God was getting better at giving me signs. Or more likely, I was finally seeing them. How long had I stumbled through life blind to the path I should follow? Oblivious to the clues pointing the way?

The irony didn't escape me. It took Steph temporarily losing her sight for me to find mine.

"I suppose we should make a wish," I mused to Riel, still in Spanish. He'd learn the language alongside English, just as I had. "A long and happy life for you, my son. One with no regrets."

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to also check out my novel length Babe fic, Hot and Bothered.
> 
> If you enjoyed my writing, I'm working on publishing an original romantic suspense novel. If you'd like to follow my journey, please follow me on Twitter @ AuthorCStraub and/or on the author page on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/celestestraubauthor/ Thank you!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment to let me know what you though. New chapters will be posted twice weekly.  
> If you enjoyed my writing, please check out my completed, novel length Babe fic, Hot and Bothered.


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